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8 AC JJ N& * D1T «H* 

vYING WITH 
FIRE. 



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Z4.3 * > 

PLAYING WITH FIRE; 



gin drighral Comtbg, 



I 1ST FIVE ^CTS, 



BY 



JOHN BROUGHAM, 
it 

AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING 

PUBLISHED ZPrLiA^S = 

'he Demon Lover, The Irish Emigrant, Life in New York, A Decided Case, 

Temptation, Love and Murder, O'Flanagan, The Irish Yankee, The Red 

Mask, Columbus, Dred, All 's Fair in Love, Franklin, The Gunmaker 

of 'Moscow, The Gume of Life, The Game of Love, Romance and 

Reality, Dombey and Son, David Copperfield, Jane Eyre, The 

Musard Ball, Tragic Revival, Neptune's Defeat, Shakspear's 

Dream, Dark Hour before Dawn, Art and Artifice, The 

Miller of New Jersey, Take Care of Little Charley, 

Pocahontas, Night and Morning, etc., etc., etc. 

3^ A.JKTTTSOIRII'TS = 

js in the Web, The Mysteries of Audley Court, The Duke's Motto, Bel. 
'emonio, Might of Right, or Soul of Honor, The Sculptor of Genoa, Death 
l Fetch, Phantom Captain, Golden Dream, O'Donnell's Mission, etc., etc. 



Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1860, by John Bbougham, Esq., Author, in the Clerk's Office 
of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. 



gote. 

hereby give notice to Managers and the entire Theatrical Profession, that 
I have purchased, and am the sole owner of "Playing with Fire;" also all of 
John Brougham's dramatic productions, either in printed or manuscript form, and 
any person or persons trespassing upon my right of property or copyrights, with- 
out my consent, (which can always be had on reasonable terms,) will be prose- 
cuted by me to the full extent of the law. Any communications addressed to 
me, care of Samuel French, Esq., publisher, No. 122 Nassau Street, New York, 

l» will receive prompt attention, etc. 

" T. E. MORRIS, 

k^Jf^fjTy^ * "Assignee of John Brougham, Esq." 




&4 1/.//& 



r 



PLAYING WITH FIRE: 



X 



Originally played at Wallace's Theatee, New York, October, 1860 ; 
and first performed at the Peincess' Theatee, (under the man- 
agement of Mr. A. Harris,) on the 28th day of September, 1861. 



Characters. 

"Wallack's Theatre. Princess' Theatre. 

. . .Mr. W. H. Norton Mr. G. Jordan. 

. . . Mr. J. Lester Wallack. . . Mr. John Brougham 

. . .Mr. W. E. Blake Mr. Byder. 

. ..Mr. A. H. Davenport Mr. Widdicomb. 

. . .Mr. Oliver Mr. Jones. 

Mrs. Herbert Waverly . .Mrs. Hoey Miss K. Leelercq 

Mrs. Doctor Savage .... Miss Mary Gannon Miss C. Leelercq. 

The Widow Orabsticke . .Mrs. Vernon Mrs. Weston. 

Perkins Miss Carman Miss Honey. 

Mary Anne Mrs. Tree Miss Price. 



Herbert Waverly 
Doctor Savage. . 
Uncle Timothy . . 

Pinchbeck 

James 



I 



Time— Present. 



Costumes — Modern. 

Peekxns must wear in the 4th and 5th Acts a similar dress to Mrs. 
Waveely's in the 1st. 



[Mr. Lacy's List.] 



PLAYING WITH FIRE. 



ACT I. 



Scene. — The Consulting Apartment at Dr. Savage's — 
doors, l. c, R., and l.; window, n. c; table, r.; sofa, l. 

Enter Pinchbeck, c. 

Pinchbeck. The Doctor not down yet. Now for my 
studies. A medical practitioner I am resolved to be, 
somehow or other, it only wants a tolerable share of 
impudence, and a few of the regular phrases; half the 
capital I know that I possess already — the other half 
I'm picking up daily. Ah, here are a couple of stray 
prescriptions to add to my stock, (picks up prescriptions, 
and puts them in pocket-hook) I wonder how my other 
profession gets on. Let's see if there's any chance of a 
nibble this morning. Hallo! my advertisement not in ? — 
yes, here it is. (reads) "Matrimonial. — A professional 
gentleman, of good social position, knowing how many 
people are deterred by an unconquerable timidity from 
avowing their preferences, and, instigated by a spirit 
of humanity, has established a secret agency, through 

I which the happy union of congenial temperaments can be 
effected in the most confidential manner. — Apply, &c." 
My correspondence has not been voluminous as yet. Ah, 
here's another bite from a cautious kind of fish, who has 
been nibbling at the hook recently, (reads) " Romeo will 
be at W.'s office, to-morrow, at twelve." Hurrah ! this 
looks like a capture, I think ; the Doctor always makes his 
calls at that time, and the coast will be clear for my opera- 
tions. Meanwhile, I must read up for my medical charac- 
ter, (takes hook and reads) "Diagnosis of diphtheria: palate 
hard and dry, throat parched" — how very singular, I feel 
these symptoms every day, just about this time — "remedy : 



I 



4 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 1. 

a strong dilution" — nothing like prevention ; I shall pre- 
scribe for myself, at once — strong dilution ; I don't know 
anything stronger than brandy, {goes to cupboard, and 
mixes some brandy and water) 

Enter Perkins, door, l. c. 

Perkins. My gracious, what are you doing Mr. 
Pinchbeck ? 

Pinch, (r.) Picking up a little practical knowledge in 
physics, my dear — manufacturing the brass for my pro- 
fessional door-plate by-and-bye. (kisses her) 

Perk, (l.) You don't seem to lack the raw material, 
Mr. Impudence. 

Pinch. Fortunately, no — most essential ingredient in 
the professional mixture ; but how do we find ourselves 
this morning — is our pulse regular, have we had a quiet 
night ? — let me see. (feels her pulse) Where the deuce is 
it ? Ah ! I have it now — low, torpid, system wants 
invigorating. Allow me — slight tonic, (mixing glass of 
brandy and water) 

Perk, (l.) I couldn't touch it for the world. 

Pinch. Pooh, pooh — mustn't disobey your medical 
attendant — case urgent — do you good — nauseous, I know, 
but necessary. 

Perk, (drinks) I never could — that's not so hard to 
take — what a capital doctor you would make. 

Pinch. I believe you — I've watched them closely, 
dear — good deal of humbug among the medicals ! Most 
ailments you see are imaginary — we have to humour 
those patients, study their characters, not their com- 
plaints — that's the principle — tickle them up with cordials, 
alcoholic balsams, and palatable medicated confections. 

Perk. But if they should be really ill ? 

Pinch. Then we have nothing to do but consult, and 
shift the responsibility. 

Perk. Why, I declare you seem to be quite fit to go 
into the doctory line yourself. 

Pinch. I should think so, indeed. You don't suppose 
that I have swept a doctor's office, and dusted his clothes 
and books a whole year for nothing. Now, I have some- 
thing else to say to you — I've got a wonderful nibble at 



ACT 1.] PLAYING WITH FIRE. 5 

my matrimonial hook. You promised to assist me and go 
halves in the plunder, so you'll have to represent the 
eligible party to all the male gudgeons. I can manage 
the feminine department myself. 

Perk. I'll do just what you say, for I do believe you 
are clever enough to make both our fortunes. 

Pinch. That's right; now embrace me with respectful 
energy, and go attend to your business, {they embrace) 

Enter Doctor Savage, door, l. c. 

Dr. S. Hollo ! what are you about there? 

Perkins runs of. 

Pinch. Singular and sudden attack, sir — sort of what- 
you-call-em dance — beg your pardon for taking the liberty, 
sir — I was just looking at the book to see what it meant. 

Dr. S. I think / might see a walking volume of ras- 
cality without straining my eye-sight much, Master 
Pinchbeck ; but you're a useful scamp enough, and so, 
until you make it too apparent, I suppose I must continue 
partially blind. 

Pinch. Always glad of your good opinion, sir. 

Dr. S. That will do— be off. 

Pinch. Real professional tone — I must practice that — 
be off! Exit, l. c 

Dr. S. (looks at slate) No calls to make for an hour. 
I hope I shall be allowed to enjoy my newspaper ; if 
there is one thing worries me more than another, it is to 
be interrupted in the middle of an interesting paragraph — 
anything new to-day. (bell rings) Now, isn't that pro- 
voking. Pinchbeck — Robert — not at home — not at home 
to anybody, mind! 

Enter Herbert, l. 

Herb. All right, I'm nobody — door open; knew you 
wouldn't mind me — Julia's gone up stairs to your wife. 

Dr. S. My dear boy, of course, you are privileged 
always, but you must confess, that when a man who 
loves to devour his daily, is stopped at the very first 
mouthful 

Herb. Yes — I know — irritating, very — but it can't be 
helped now — no loss, however — I've read it all — nothing 



6 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [Ad 1. 

in it — never is — stupid age we live in, my dear friend — 
dull — money-grubbing, unromantic, unendurable I (crosses 

R. to L.) 

Dr. S. Hollo ! Herbert, how's this — touch of the 
blues — eh? 

Herb. Touch ! — an avalanche — overwhelming, de- 
structive ! 

Dr. S. Indigestion. 

Herb. Pshaw — feel my pulse. 

Dr. S. — Regular as clock-work. 

Herb. Indeed — anatomical mockery — sanguineous de- 
ception. Look in my eye. 

Dr. S. I do — clear, bright and placid as a summer 
lake. 

Herb. But with an under-current of despair. 

Dr. S. Good gracious ! you alarm me. What's the 
matter ? 

Herb. I don't know — that's the misery. I'm a physio- 
logical cheat — an animated subterfuge. This calm and 
passionless exterior covers a heart tortured by anxiety. 
I'm a sort of Spartan boy, with a continually gnawing 
fox — a modern Prometheus, with an insatiable vulture 
still feeding here, (goes to sofa, l.) 

Dr. S. On pate defois gras — your liver's oujf; of order. 

Herb. Don't laugh ; (rises.) there's a good fellow. I'm 
serious — like Othello, perplexed in the extreme. 

Dr. S. Not from the same cause, I hope. 

Herb. No, no — I almost wish it were. 

Dr. S. The deuce, you do. Pray, explain yourself. 

Herb. I will, if I can. Hark ! isn't that Julia's 
voice? — no. I wouldn't have her hear me for worlds. 

Dr. S. A secret, eh ? 

Herb. Yes — a most embarassing one. 

Dr. S. Aha, I understand. 

Herb. No, you don't. 

Dr. S. Yes, I do. You married young. 

Herb. Well? 

Dr. S. Nearly six years ago. 

Herb. Well? 

Dr. S. And you have seen some one 

Herb. Stop ! I won't allow your tongue to utter such 



ACT 1] PLAYING WITH FIRE. 7 

a sacrilegious thought. You know nothing about it. I 
love my wife more truly, more devotedly than ever. 

Dr. S. Oh, then, perhaps she 

Herb. No ; I tell you — no — that's not it at all. 

Dr. S. Well, what is it, for mercy's sake — is she in 
bad health? 

Herb. On thv contrary, fresh and fair and beautiful as 
Hebe. 

Dr. S. And her spirits? 

Herb, (l.) Ah I 

Dr. S. (r.) Now we're coming at it. 

Herb. Are we ! perhaps. William, I think I can count 
upon your friendship, (goes up, and brings down chair 
and sits) 

Dr. S. In any extremity. 

Herb. Then listen to me, and let me have your advice. 
My wife is the victim of some concealed sorrow, the cause 
of which I can't divine. Since our marriage we have 
lived only for each other, as you know ; the years flew by 
in calm tranquillity, happy in our mutual confidence, happy 
in our entwined affection. 

Dr. S. But surely 

Herb. Wait ; not long since, only a few months ago, 
it smote upon my heart like a sudden stab that there was 
a something, I knew not what, wanting in our perfect 
understanding of each other. I could accuse myself of 
no concealment except of that one shadow of surmise; 
hour by hour, however, my suspicions grew to certainty ; 
I could perceive that her gaiety was unreal, assumed, 
constrained, put on while we were together, only to be 
• abandoned when she was alone. Well, one day I had 
just quitted her, and urged almost to desperation by the 
cruel doubts that oppressed me, I — I listened at her door, 
I ! — I looked through her keyhole, I did, William, I did ; 
the hot blood sears my cheek for it, now, but I was that 
abject, cowardly thing, that miserably mean eavesdropper. 
Once, only once, upon my honour — honour ? — my honour ? 
Well, I was punished for it, amply, deservedly, when 1 
saw the lie pass from her brow, and the truth, the terrible 
truth reveal itself : she had deceived me, the echo of the 
merry laugh with which she parted from me had scarcely 



8 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 1. 

died away, before I saw her gaze with a sad, painful 
expression upon the door I had passed through, and she 
wept — wept, I tell you, man, a flood of silent, agonizing 
tears, and I, who but a few moments before would have 
faced her lightest sorrow, at the peril of my life, my soul, 
felt a curse spring upward from my heart ; but my great 
love compelled it back, and changed it to a grief. Oh, 
William, I could cry now like a child, like a child. 

Dr. S. And from as small a cause, no doubt. 

Herb. You cannot question the sincerity of my suffer- 
ing, or do you wish to deceive me also with a feigned 
indifference ; in either case I [rising) 

Dr. S. Stop; don't be hasty; I'm afraid you have 
been so already, conjuring up a spectre which may seem 
very hideous, and be nothing but vapour after all ; let us 
look the phantom boldly in the face : how long is it since 
you made this grim discovery? 

Herb. Three months and five days. 

Dr. S. There's nothing like being particular in dates, I 
presume you haven't hinted to your wife 

Herb. Of course not ; do you think me insane ? 

Dr. S. Not yet ; nor given any indication by change 
of feature, or coolness of manner, that might suggest a 
suspicion to her. 

Herb. No, at least, not designedly. 

Dr. S. But by accident ? they breathe hard who wear 
masks always. 

Herb. I can't tell, I believe not. 

Dr. S. At all events, she still plays the same part ? 

Herb. Yes, plays it, oh, how skilfully ! 

Dr. S. You can't think of any reason springing from 
yourself — any slight jealousy or misconception? 

Herb. None whatever. 

Dr. S. It's reasonable to conclude then, that the cause, 
whatever it be, must rest with her alone ? 

Herb. It must, it must ! 

Dr. S. Bah, bah ! hold your tongue, and above all, 
be reasonable ; the cause of her uneasiness must be either 
real or imaginary — if imaginary, it must be dispersed 
for her sake— if real, it must be met manfully for your 
own. You've been a great deal in each other's society ? 



ACT 1.] PLAYING WITH FIRE. 9 

Herb. Necessarily — we wished for none other. 

Dr. S. Perhaps not ! Well, I confess I'm puzzled. 

Herb. I made an excuse for calling that you might 
watch her closely without exciting her suspicion, there 
may be some lurking illness that your experienced eye 
would detect. (Mrs. Herbert and Mrs. Savage laugh 
without) Hark, she comes ! (crosses to r., behind table, 
Mrs. Herbert laughs outside) Ah, that laugh — how it 
chills me — silence and discretion ! 

Dr. S. Pooh, I'm a physician ! 

Enter Mrs. Savage and Mrs. Herbert, l. 2. e. 

Mrs. S. (speaking as they enter, l.) It's not true, my 
dear, for the newspapers say that the Empress wore them 
at the last ball, and I suppose that settles the question. 

Mrs. H. (joyously, l.c.) Good morning, my dear Doctor, 
I hope you'll pardon me for not paying my respects 
sooner, but when women meet you know they have a 
thousand things to talk about. 

Dr. S. (r. c.) Don't mention it, my dear madam, I'm 
delighted to see you looking so well. 

Herb. Pale, isn't she ? 

Dr. S. No. 

Mrs. H. (to Herbert) Did I detain you love ? 

Herb, (r., gaily) Not at all, darling — had a glorious chat 
with my old friend William — isn't that flush hectic ? 

Dr. S. Hectic ? nonsense ! 

Mrs. H. (to Mrs. Savage) Don't you see a sad ex- 
pression in his eye. 

Mrs. S, (l.) Not a bit ; I suppose I must introduce 
myself, (crosses to him) I believe I have the honour of 
addressing the celebrated Dr. Savage ? 

Dr. S. Eh, who's that? 

Mrs. S. I'm your wife, if you please, Doctor. 

Dr. S. Oh, little woman, is that you ? 

Mrs. S. Yes it is — and you take no more notice of me 
than if I were any other article of household furniture. 

Dr. S. Ah, you little humbug, you want to give your 
friends an idea that you are terribly neglected, don't you ? 

Mrs. S. Well, and am I not, when I've hardly seen 
you for a week. 



10 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 1. 

Herb. J* What ? 

Mrs. H. \ Is it possible ? 

Mrs. S. It's a melancholy fact ; what with calls out, 
consultations — very convenient excuses, and that odious 
club, ah, how I'd like to strangle it. I haven't set eyes 
upon him only for a minute or two, for — for — oh, ever so 
long, (retires up stage and sits on sofa) 

Dr. S. But didn't I come at last to comfort you as the 
other tyrant said, you perverse little pet grumbling do- 
mestic dictator. (Mrs. Herbert laughs, sitting on sofa) 

Herb. Ah, that perfidious laugh. 

Mrs. H. Very good, Doctor ; did you hear that, 
Herbert dear ? 

Herb. Oh, yes, my love, capital ! f laughs and turns 
up stage) The mask, the mask, how evident it is. 

Dr. S. I know better than to let you have too much of 
my company, my duck. 

Mrs. S. Indeed, sir, and why, may I ask ? 

Dr. S. Precautionally, my darling ; I'm out of spirits 
sometimes, and dullness is contagious. 

Mrs. S. I'm much obliged to you for your consideration. 

Dr. S. Oh, you're very welcome. 

Mrs. S. But I think it more professional than polite ; 
don't you agree with me, Mr. Waverly? 

Herb. Yes, perfectly — I beg your pardon, I didn't 
exactlv catch the 

if 

Mrs. H. Why, Herbert, dear, you seem out of spirits 
yourself to-day. 

Herb. Not at all, my darling, what could induce you 
to suppose so ? (to Dr. Savage) She has been crying. 

(Mrs. Herbert turns to Mrs. Savage) 

Dr. S. I wouldn't be surprised, women frequently cry 
about trifles — seldom about troubles. 

Mrs. S. (l.) It's very evident, my dear, that their high 
mightinesses our respective lords and masters, have not 
finished their confidential chat. 

Herb. I assure you there's no particular conference, we 
have nothing to consult about, have we, William ? 

Dr. S. Nothing but the state of the weather. 

Herb. You don't imagine that I have, Julia ? 

Mrs. H. (laughing, l. c.) Why should I, dear, to judge 




ACT 1.] PLAYING WITH FIRE. 11 

by your merry laugh, you must be as free from care as 
I am. (goes, l.) 

Mrs. S. Come, love, I want to shew you my new aviary. 
I'm sorry to say, my husband's abominable neglect re- 
duces me to the old maidenish resource of pets, poodles, 
and parrots — did you hear what I said, sir ? 

Dr. S. No. 

Mrs. S. You're a bear, and I hate you ! 

Dr. S. Thank you, I'm very much obliged to you. 

Mrs. H. Oh, don't say that, dear, even in jest. 

Dr. S. You wouldn't have her say it in earnest, would 
you? 

Mrs. H. How amusing you are, doctor; won't you 
wait a little longer, Herbert ? 

Herb. Certainly, my love, as long as you please, I'm 
not in a hurry, (crossing, l.) 

Mrs. H. Au revoir, then. (Mrs. Savage hits the 
Doctor sharply on the shoulder, and as she goes off, turns 
round and makes faces at him) Exeunt Ladies, l. 2 e. 

Herb, (l.) Well? 

Dr. S. (l.) Well! 

Herb. What do you think ? 

Dr. S. Think ? you'll pardon the force of the expres- 
sion, I think you're a pair of fools, not having taken the 
wise precaution to economise your domestic felicity, the 
natural consequence has been a surfeit. 

Herb. What do you mean ? 

Dr. S. Simply that your sky of happiness has been a 
little too serene — 

" Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, 
Till love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour." 

Herb. Are you in earnest ? 
Dr. S. Profoundly ! 
Herb. And the remedy ? 
Dr. S. Establish a shadow. 
Herb. As if it had not been all cloud. 
Dr. S. I grant you plenty of cloud, but no storm. 
Herb. Storm. 

Dr. S. Yes, storm, the air never gets clear without 
one ; there have been enough of passing vapours, now 




12 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 1. 

we must let the thunders roll, the lightning play, the 
rains descend. 

Herb. You surely wouldn't advise a quarrel ? 

Dr. S. By no means. 

Herb. What then? do for pity's sake let me under- 
stand you at once. 

Dr S. (r.) Desperate cases demand desperate remedies. 
We must stimulate the organic system, the action of the 
heart is sluggish. You have every confidence in your 
wife's affection? 

Herb. Unbounded ! 

Dr. S. Wouldn't be afraid to put it to any proof? 

Herb, Certainly not ! 

Dr. S. Then couldn't you get some good-looking friend 
in whose honour and discretion you have reliance, to pay 
her just sufficient attention to excite an interest? 

Herb, {very loudly) What ? 

Dr. S. An indignant one, of course, anything to put 
an end to this torpidity of soul. 

Herb, {walks about) Phew ! you may well say a des- 
perate remedy— it has sent the blood galloping through 
my veins at a stinging pace, {crosses to R., and back 
to L.) 

Dr. S. Yes, I know, it will do you good, too — vitalize 
your inertness, and fill you with wholesome anxieties in 
spite of yourself; wake up your slumbering energies, 
and pepper your flavourless existence with a little appe- 
tizing excitement. 

Herb. What folly I I dare not resort to such an un- 
worthy experiment. 

Dr. S. Are you afraid ? 

Herb. No, a thousand times, no. 

Dr. S. Then where's the danger? 

Herb. The idea is so singular, but if I were to consent 
to such an extraordinary proceeding, where am I to find 
the friend ? 

Dr. S. Oh, plenty of them floating about, who have 
nothing else to do. 

Herb. Unless you were to undertake it yourself. 

Dr. S. What are you talking about ? — good gracious ! 
think of me, a plain, unpretending, jog-trot sort of person 



ACT 1.] PLAYING WITH FIRE. 13 

— why, I never made a complimentary speech to a woman 
in my life — I don't know how — it's preposterous. 

Herb. You recommended it yourself. 

Dr. S. Yes, but it's rather a novelty in medical practice 
to ask a doctor to swallow his own prescriptions. 

Herb. Consider, that in you I have the completest 
trust — besides, you'll know exactly how far it will be 
prudent to go. Come, come, I shall consider it unfriendly 
if you refuse. 

Dr. S. Truly, a ridiculous position I have placed my- 
self in. I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll compromise the 
matter with you by trying to find out the cause of her 
disquiet, and if I find myself floating towards flirtation, 
why, I'll resign myself to the current. 

Herb. That's my good, kind friend. (Ladies laugh 
outside) Here they come, now you can commence at once. 

Dr. S. What, while you are present ? 

Herb. Pshaw, that's of no consequence. 

Dr. S. Oh, I thought it was ; well, but my wife w r ill 
be here too. 

Herb. Yes, that's awkward. 

Dr. S. So I should think. 

Herb. Never mind, I'll pay my regards to her while 
you 

Dr. S. No, you won't do anything of the kind. 

Herb. What, William, are you afraid ? 

Dr. S. No, certainly not — confound it, I begin to feel 
as if I had walked open-eyed into a nice predicament. 

Enter Mrs. Savage and Mrs. Herbert, door l. 

Mrs. S. What's the matter, dear? 

Dr. S. Oh, nothing — I'm afraid I've given the wrong 
prescription to a patient, that is all. 

Mrs. H. No danger, sir, I hope ? (crosses to him) 

Dr. S. Not at all — that is, at present — upon my life, 
she's remarkably pretty, I never noticed it before ; I don't 
think it would be very difficult to say a few tender words 
to her — hem, Mrs. Waverly! [she turns suddenly) Bless 
my soul, who would have thought she'd turn on a fellow 
like a drawing-room tigress — beg your pardon, but did 
you 

B 



14 PLAYING WITH FIEE. [ACT 2. 

Mrs. H. No, sir. 

Dr. S. I thought not — did you ever read this interesting 
work — I don't mean that — if you would only grant me 
a private interview. 

Mrs. H. Sir ! 

Dr. S. No, not private — public, I mean — oh lord ! I 
don't know what I mean ; see what it is to be unused to 
a thing — that's as far as I can go at present. 

Enter Pinchbeck, with coat, door, l. c. 

Pinchbeck. Cab's at the door, sir. 
Dr. S. Oh, ah — yes, to be sure — dear me, I had almost 
forgotten my visits, {going) 

Mrs. S. You're not going out in that coat? 
Dr. S. Bless me, no — excuse me — a little absent this 
morning. 

(Pinchbeck puts coat on Doctor — business — all 
laugh — Doctor runs off — Drop quick) 

END OF ACT THE FIRST. 



ACT II. 

Scene. — Drawing Room at Waverley's. 
Enter Mary Anne, followed by Uncle Timothy, c. 

Mary. What name shall I say, sir? 

Uncle T. Oh, ah ! yes — nobody — anybody. Just say 
he's wanted, that's all. 

Mary. Hem ! Gentleman from the rural districts. 

Exit, r. 2 e. 

Uncle T. Now look at this house : who couldn't tell at a 
glance that the beautifying influence of a wife made this 
home a very nest of comfort and happiness ? bless my 
soul what a deal of time I have wasted to be sure, and 
yet, how it's generally arrived at I haven't the remotest 
idea ; phew, the very thought sets me in a flame ! I'm on 
the road now, though; where's the paper? ah, here — 
here is the fiat of my fate, the first step towards connu- 



Act 2.] playinq with fire. 15 

biality made easy. " Romeo will be at Mr. W.'s office 
at twelve to-morrow." I'm Romeo, kindly assisted in 
the pursuit of some anonymous Juliet by this benevolent 
mouthpiece of the diffident, [takes out letter and reads) 

" Dr. Savage, No. 34 Eh, bless me, here's Herbert ! 

(thrusts letter into his pocket) 

Enter Herbert, r. 2 e. 

Herb. Why, Uncle Timothy, is it you ? 

Uncle T. (l.) Yes, my boy, it's Uncle Timothy, come 
to town incog, like a Crown Prince. Glad to see you. 
How's Julia ? 

Herb. In excellent health, and charming as ever. 

Uncle T. 0, you lucky, happy dog. 

Herb. Yes, happy ; very, very happy, (seriously) 

Uncle T. Anybody can see that. Aha, it's the only 
true felicity, my boy. I envy you, Herbert, upon my 
life I do. What's the use of all the enjoyment the world 
can procure if you have to lock it up in your own chest ? 
It won't keep sweet unless it can get air, unless you can 
give it to somebody to take eare of it for you, and even 
then you must take it out occasionally, like very good 
clothes, for fear the moth should get into it ; toss it to 
and fro, from one to the other — I don't mean ridiculously, 
like overgrown children with a toy that might be lost or 
broken in the operation, but like a delicate gem whose 
lustre should only be renewed by your own hands. Why 
you'll forget you ever possessed it if you stowed it away 
in a drawer. Herbert, will you answer me one question 
ingenuously ? 

Herb. Yes, uncle, if I can. 

Uncle T. Do you think — now promise me that you 
won't laugh — do you think I — look at me well — that I'm, 
hang it, I can't go on, that I'm — I'm too old to marry. 
Phew ! 

Herb. Certainly not, sir, if 

Uncle T. Yes, yes, I know, if I could find anybody to 
marry me. 

Herb. I was about to say, if your inclination led you 
in that direction. 

Uncle. It isn't likely I would, you know, unless it did. 



16 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 2. 

Herb. May I ask you in return, sir, have you any such 
inclination ? 

Uncle. Well, yes — no — I mean it depends a good deal 
on circumstances. 

Herb. What circumstances ? 

Uncle. Never you mind, sir ! 

Herb. The astonishment to me is, that you never 
thought of it before. 

Uncle. How do you know I never thought of it ? I 
have, my boy, dozens of times. Whenever I saw a truly 
happy couple, I was instantly inoculated with the infec- 
tion, and looked about me eagerly to find a desirable 
partner, but before I could call up courage enough to ask 
the definite question, some accidental scene of domestic 
disquiet would be sure to send me back into my shell like 
a frightened snail. 

Herb. This visit of yours is somewhat unexpected, 
uncle. 

Uncle. Yes, my boy, I'll tell you how it happened — 
Sister Patience and I were invited to a wedding about a 
month ago, and the delight of the young people made me 
feel so like a malefactor that I resolved to put a speedy 
end to my bachelor days. Now, our village is not an 
extensive nlace for matrimonial operations, and Patience 
is as watchful as a lynx, so I had to try a desperate 
manoeuvre, and — well, you'll see what, by-and-bye. 
(about to take a letter out) 

Herb. Is Aunt Patience with you? 

Uncle, (looking round) Bless me, no ; since she lost 
her husband, old Crabsticke, and came to live with me, I 
have received the full benefit of her domestic experience. 
She used to worry the poor old fellow to the verge of 
lunacy, and now can't get rid of the old habit, and cer- 
tainly does contrive to keep me in a blessed state of 
tribulation. Think of that, my boy — to have all the 
aggravating irritabilities of a duplicated existence without 
any of its little comforts, isn't it too bad. Why, what's 
the matter with you, Herbert, you're looking pale ? 

Herb. With me ? — nothing, sir ; never felt better in all 
my life. 

Uncle. Anything amiss between you and Julia? 



Act 2.] plating with fire. 17 

Herb. Certainly not, sir. How could you imagine such 
a thing? 

Uncle. I don't know — partly on my own account ; for, 
if my present resolution could be shaken, that, I think, 
would demolish it effectually. 

Enter Mrs. Herbert, l. 2 e. 

Herb. Apropos ! here she comes to answer for herself. 
(aside) This state of dissimulation and suspense is mad- 
dening. 

Mrs. H. (on seeing Herbert, changes her manner) 
Herbert here still ! Why, I thought you had gone 
out, dear. 

Herb. No, my love; Uncle Timothy here, intercepted me. 

Mrs. H. My dear uncle, I'm glad to see you ! 

Uncle, (crosses to her) As I am, my little darling pet, 
to see you, believe me. You don't know, my dear niece, 
what gratification it affords me to see a truly loving and 
devoted couple — it convinces me what a procrastinating 
old idiot I have been all my life. But I have made up 
my mind, at last — how — well — no, now that I look at 
you again — not well? — why, what's the matter with your 
eyes — so red and swollen ? Julia, you've been crying. 

Mrs. H. No, no ; hush ! 

Uncle. But I say yes, yes, and I won't hush, (looking 
at both) Hem ! (crosses to c.) Hang it, I mustn't be too 
precipitate. There's something wrong between you two. 

Mrs. H. J My dear uncle, no, no. 

Herb. ( Not at all ; you're in error, sir. 

Uncle. Oh, you can't deceive me. I've watched other 
people's matrimonial barometers too closely not to know 
the difference between changeable and set fair. 

Herb. What an idea, uncle, (laughs) 

Mrs. H. Singular mistake, (laughs) 

Uncle T. Yes, yes, I see, these are very contemptible 
imitations of hilarity. I know exactly the state of affairs : 
as usual, I have blundered in at the wrong time, and 
find Master Hymen without his holiday dress — wedlock 
in dishabille. I was very right in supposing it to be an 
extremely hazardous investment, and so I'll have nothing 
to do with it. (sits) 



18 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 2. 

Herb, (sits) What, my dear uncle, would you rather 
live a clockwork life, using your heart's machinery for no 
better purpose than to tick off the passing hours. Give 
me the extremes of joy and grief instead : and I won't 
allow you to mock your kindly disposition so far as to 
speak harshly of a state whose very anxieties spring 
often from an excess of happiness. 

Uncle T. I think I could contrive to do without the 
surplus. 

Herb. But, sir, imagine the ample store of pleasures 
lost by those who journey through the world in single 
selfishness. 

Uncle T. A man can't miss what he never had. 

Herb. But men generally envy what they can't obtain ; 
who wouldn't seize upon a treasure that lay within his reach? 

Uncle T. Nobody if he had a right to it, and was 
assured of its reality. 

Herb. Which can only be determined by the test. 

Uncle T. And then if it should turn out counterfeit, it 
would be too late for anything but the pleasant conscious- 
ness of having cheated yourself — doomed, moreover to 
have the consequence of your rashness tied about your 
neck — a heap of spurious coin that you can neither change 
nor fling away. 

Herb. Ah, believe me sir, the real prize, though rare, 
if once obtained, is worth the risk. 

Uncle T. (coming to Herbert) Do you really think 
so, Herbert? 

Herb. I am sure of it. (goes up to chair, r.) 

Uncle T. (to Mrs. Herbert, who comes down, l.) 
Come here, pet; look in my face — tell me honourably 
and truly — are you contented? Do you love Herbert as 
much as ever ? 

Mrs. H. A thousand times better, sir, but words are 
poor interpreters — the deepest affection is ever the most 
silent. 

Uncle. I believe you, darling ; there's truth, conviction 
in that open glance. (Mrs. H. turns and sits l. — Uncle 
goes to Herbert, who is seated in chair, r.) I think I 
must, after all. (to Herbert) Nephew, between ourselves 
now, is your love for your wife as strong as it used to be P 



Act 2.] playing with fire. 19 

Herb. So strong, my dear uncle, that my life's structure 
is sustained by that alone. 

Uncle. He's in earnest — they're both in earnest. I'll 
do it — my life's structure must be sustained. I've flung 
away joy and comfort too long. Herbert, won't you lodge 
me for a day or two ? I have some very important business 
to transact. 

Herb, [rings bell) Certainly, my dear uncle, as long as 
yon please. 

Mrs. H. Nothing could give us greater pleasure. 

Enter Mary Anne, r. 3 e. 

Herb. Mary Anne, shew uncle into the best of the 
spare rooms. 

Uncle T. Thank you — thank you ! Yes, I'm determined, 
nothing can change me now. Exit, r. 3 e. 

Herb, (after a slight pause — Mrs. Herbert rises and 
comes down, l. — Herbert, r.) I wonder, love, what 
chimerical project our eccentric relative has now in view. 

Mrs. H. I can't imagine, dear. Surely he don't con- 
template matrimony himself ? 

Herb. I'm almost inclined to think so. Ah ! if I 
dared approach the subject of my painful thought, (aside) 

Mrs. H. If he would but confide in me. (aside) 

Herb. I shall at least give her an opportunity for 
explanation, (aside) Julia, dear, come, it's a long time 
since we had one of our confidential gossips together, (they 
sit on ottoman, c.) 

Mrs. H. He is going to explain, (aside) Ah ! yes, 
Herbert, dear, and I have missed them so much, {they sit 
— Mrs. Crabsticke heard outside — they start up) 

Mrs. C. Don't tell me any such nonsense as that. 

Enter Mrs. Crabsticke, c, with umbrella and reticule, 

and Servant. 

Mrs. C. How d'ye do — how d'ye do? Didn't expect 
me, I suppose ? — exactly — didn't expect to be here myself 
yesterday — Thank you, I will sit down. Don't let me put 
you out of the way. Young man, take care of that um- 
brella, it is a family relic. Well, my dears, here I am, 
dropped down promiscuous-like out of the clouds, as a body 



20 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 2. 

might say. Why 2 I'll tell you why — he's here, isn't ha? 
Yes, I thought so — knew he'd come first. What a worrit 
he is I it's well he has me to look after him. I mistrusted 
he had something on his mind, and was resolved to find 
it out ; did I ? why of course I did. And now I have 
travelled all this way by myself to fulfil a painful but 
imperative duty. I won't even ask you to give me a room, 
for I mustn't be seen, especially by him, the old simpleton. 

Herb. What's the matter, aunt? what has he done? 

Mrs. C. Nothing yet I hope ; but he's about to commit 
an act of stupidity which would qualify him for a lunatic 
asylum! What? I'll tell you what in a few words. I 
noticed latterly that he had established a correspondence 
with some unknown parties in the City, here — suspected 
mischief, and felt it was my duty to counteract it. Did I? 
of course I did ! So I got the servant to give me his last 
letter, here it is. {reads) " Dear Doctor, since you assure 
me that many happy matches" — the old fool — "have 
been arranged through your assistance," — the lying knave 
— " I am strongly tempted to see if fortune will be 
equally kind to me." — stupid dotard — "If I can get 
away, for I am watched by a remorseless old catamaran," 
— that's what he calls his own sister — " you shall know 
of it by looking at to-morrow's paper, — signed, Romeo." 
What do you think of that ? Romeo ! the dear fascinating 
youth ! Oh, couldn't I box his ears for him ! and look at 
the paper, here it is; [takes paper from her pocket) 
making an appointment for twelve o'clock to-morrow ; 
that's nice conduct, I think, 

Mrs. H. To whom is the letter addressed ? 

Herb, [taking letter) No doubt to one of those miser- 
able scamps who trade upon human credulity. What! 
do I see the name and address of one of our most intimate 
friends, Dr. Savage? Oh, there must be some singular 
mistake here. 

Mrs. C. (c.) Not at all; several letters have passed 
between them. 

Mrs. H. It will be easy to ascertain by questioning the 
Doctor. 

Herb, (r.) Nonsense, my love, I wouldn't insult him 
by mentioning such a thing. 



Act 2.] plating with fire. 21 

Mrs. C. Wouldn't you? well, I'm not so squeamish; 
I shall, you may depend upon it, and pretty smartly, too. 

Enter James, c. 

James. Mr. Pinchbeck wishes to see you for a moment, 
sir. 

Herb. Show him in. Exit James. 

Enter Pinchbeck, c. 

Pinch. I beg your pardon, sir, for intruding so abruptly, 
but the Doctor would be glad to see you for a few 
moments, if convenient. 

Herb. Very well ; I'll go at once. Au revoir, my dear, 
good-bye, aunt ; I hope you'll be successful in your deli- 
cate undertaking. Exit, c 

Mrs. C. (r.) So you think, my dear, that this Dr. 
Savage's, or Savage (Pinchbeck about to go, c, stops on 
hearing name of Savage) is the agent I am in search of? 

Mrs. H. I'm quite certain he is not. 

Pinch. Hah, what's this ? one of my pigeons, I do 
believe ! (makes signs to Mrs. Crabtree) 

Mrs. Good gracious, what's the matter with you, sir ? 

Pinch. If you could manage to give me a private in- 
terview, I think you might hear of something to your 
advantage. 

Mrs. C. (shewing letter) Do you know this person ? 

Pinch, (aside to her) Well, rather! 

Mrs. C. (to Mrs. Herbert) Will you do me the favour 
my dear, to keep my brother from seeing me while I 
reflect upon the course I had better pursue. 

Mrs. H. Certainly, my dear aunt, I shall gladly assist 
you in the endeavour to prevent him from taking so 
foolish a step. Crosses, and exits, r. 2 e. 

Mrs. C. Now, sir ! 

Pinch, (r.) Oh, my dear madam — my excellent, good, 
benevolent looking madam — I implore you to cast a 
pitying eye upon one whom a desperate fate has plunged 
into a position at once repugnant to his feelings, and 
distasteful to his principles. 

Mrs. C. What on earth do you mean, sir ? 

Pinch. Hush ! keep my secret, and I shall crown your 



22 PLAYINO WITH FIRE. [ACT 2. 

expectations with delight and happiness, without even 
asking you for the entrance fee to place your name on my 
books. 

Mrs. C. What books ? 

Pinch. My repertory of marriageable parties. I know 
the delicate nature of your mission, my dear madam ; 
confide fearlessly in my discretion, preserve my unhappy 
secret, and you may choose from a score of highly avail- 
able candidates. 

Mrs. C. Are you mad, sir? what is the man talking 
about ? 

Pinch. Suffice it to say, madam, in me you behold the 
veritable Doctor Savage, Medical Practitioner, Matri- 
monial Agent, Leader of Blind Cupids, and Door Keeper 
to the Temple of Hymen. 

Mrs. C. Are you Dr. Savage ? 

Pinch. One of them. There's another, a near relative — 
he is rich and prosperous ; I am poor and struggling — he 
has blundered into position, through mere luck, while I 
have to cut my way through the world with the double- 
edged sword of cunning and invention. 

Mrs. C. Then, sir, your reputable relative don't know 
the estimable vocation you follow? 

Pinch. Doesn't dream of it — but, as I said before, keep 
my secret, and I'll undertake to arrange this matter to 
your entire satisfaction. 

Mrs. C. Then you understand what I am here for? 

Pinch. Thoroughly — saw it at a glance — no explanation 
necessary — I'll manage it for you. 

Mrs. C. I'm sure you're very kind. 

Pinch. Don't mention it, my dear madam ; it's my duty, 
my business — indeed, in the present instance, my neces- 
sity ; for, as I have frankly told you how I am situated, 
it leaves me entirely in your power. 

Mrs. C. Do you imagine then, sir, that, with your 
assistance, I shall be able to take him back with me into 
the country? 

Pinch. Oh, you'd like to take him back with you ? 

Mrs. C. Certainly. 

Pinch. When do you travel ? 

Mrs. C. As soon as I can — I have no time to lose. 



Act 3.] playing with fire. 23 

Pinch, (aside) I should say not. The notice is short, 
madam ; but we must accelerate our faculties. You'll 
give me till to-morrow, to arrange preliminaries. 

Mrs. C. What preliminaries ? Is there any more to be 
done than to let us meet anywhere out of this — there's no 
ceremony requisite ? 

Pinch. No ceremony — not immediately, I grant; but, 
pray, recollect I can promise no more than to bring about 
an interview. Now, if the other party — you'll excuse the 
insinuation — should be dissatisfied with your appearance ? 

Mrs. C. He'll have to swallow his dissatisfaction as 
well as he can ; let him but cast his eyes on me, you'll 
see how quickly he'll surrender. 

Pinch, (aside) Egad, the old lady has no mean opinion 
of her personal attractions. Consider the affair concluded, 
madam. Do me the favour to give me a call at my office 
to-morrow at eleven o'clock precisely ; we, professional 
slaves, who have our time parcelled out into mathematical 
slices, are compelled to insist upon punctuality. 

Mrs. C. I shall be there, sir, depend upon it. 

(as they are bowing ceremoniously to each other) 

END OP ACT THE SECOND. 



ACT III. 

Scene. — Same as Act II. — Evening 1 lighted up, curtains 

closed. 

Mrs. Herbert Waverly and Mrs. Doctor Savage 
discovered. Mrs. Waverly as though just parting 
with Herbert. 

Mrs. H. Good-bye, dear, (they advance and seat them- 
selves) 

Mrs. S. My dear Julia, what a darling good-tempered 
husband you are blessed with, always in such excellent 
spirits ; how happy you must be. 

Mrs. H. (sighing deeply) Ah, Fanny! 

Mrs. S. My goodness, how you sigh — what's the 
matter ? 

Mrs. H. Fanny, the truth is, I'm miserable. 



24 PLAYING WITH F1EE. [Ad 3. 

Mrs. S. Oh, my dear, so am I. 

Mrs. H. Is it possible ! 

Mrs. S. How could it be otherwise ; just imagine the 
life I lead ; your husband has always a kind word and a 
sweet smile on his lips, but my brute hardly ever con- 
descends to honour me with a grunt. 

Mrs. H. But he loves you, Fanny. 

Mrs. S. Well, I suppose he does, in his bearish way ; 
but I'm sure your husband doats upon you. 

Mrs. H. What makes you so sure of that, Fanny ? 

Mrs. S. Because everybody can see he does. 

Mrs. H. Everybody except me. 

Mrs. S. I'm afraid, my dear, that you are rather too 
exacting. Ah, you should have my savage to deal with! 

Mrs. H. He is in earnest, Fanny — honest and sincere 
— notwithstanding his roughness; but the respect and 
affection which you and everybody see exhibited towards 
me are nothing but pretence and mockery. 

Mrs. S. You surprise me indeed ; why I looked upon 
you as perfect models of domestic felicity ! 

Mrs. H. So we were until I made a fearful discovery. 
(they sit down) 

Mrs. S. You interest me, dear. What discovery ? 

Mrs. H. That something or somebody had estranged 
him from me. 

Mrs. S. Ah ! I see ; there's a little jealousy in the 
matter. 

Mrs. H. Oh, no, no, it isn't that ; my own self-respect 
prevents me from entertaining so vulgar a suspicion. 

Mrs. S. My gracious ! what can it be else. 

Mrs. H. I know not. I can scarcely define my sensa- 
tions. A thousand petty circumstances have accumulated 
by degrees, until the conviction forced itself upon my 
unwilling mind that there was a change, but from what 
cause it is impossible for me even to guess. 

Mrs S. Dear me, dear me. I didn't think there was 
anybody unhappy but myself — I'm so sorry, [rise) 

Mrs. H. It has somewhat relieved my overburthened 
heart to share its secrets with you, my kind friend — for I 
believe I can confide implicitly in you. Advise with me, 
dear Fanny, what am I to do ; this uncertainty is more 



Act 3.] playing with fire. 25 

than I can bear, and to persist in such a life of mutual 
deception would be unworthy and humiliating. 

Mrs. S. I don't know really how to counsel you ; I 
never met with a case like yours, seeming to love each 
other so devotedly — and yet, by-the-bye, do you love him ? 
Excuse the bluntness of the question. 

Mrs. H. Do you love your husband ? 

Mrs. S. Oh, that's a different thing ; we make no such 
pretence. My insensible brute don't seem to care 
whether I love him or not, and so I never ask myself the 
question. 

Mrs. H. Ah ! if I could arrive at such indifference, but 
it is Herbert alone who is blest with so apathetic a tem- 
perament. 

Mrs. S. I don't believe it. The fact is, my dear, you 
haven't managed him properly, depend upon it; these 
men are strange, cross-grained institutions. If one of the 
born tyrants is perfectly certain that a conquered heart is 
his alone to domineer domestically over, he's apt to be- 
come either cranky or careless. Now, when my delec- 
table lord and master inclines to either — which he does 
occasionally — I get up a little bit of a flirtation, and it's 
astonishing what a good effect it has. 

Mrs. H. Fanny! why, I never dreamt of such a thing! 

Mrs. S. Oh ! I know it's very terrible and Frenchy, 
and all that sort of thing ; but take my word for it, if 
you would only try it once — just in an innocent sort of 
way, you'd see how soon you'll bring his lordship to 
his senses. 

Mrs. H. You're not — you can't be in earnest, Fanny. 
Why, the mere suggestion makes me tremble with shame. 

Mrs. S. How nice, and good, and primitive you are, 
dear. If there were any harm, do you suppose I would 
advise it? 

Mrs. H. I hope not, Fanny, 

Enter James, with card, c, down l. 

Why, it's your husband, Fanny ! Shew him up. 

Exit James, c. 

Mrs. S. I have a capital idea ; suppose you practise a 

little with my porcupine. He doesn't know I'm here. 

c 



26 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 3. 

I'll give you leave. Ha, ha, ha! you won't find him 
very inflammable. I can listen to it all from the other 
room. 

Mrs. H. What folly ! he's my husband's most intimate 
friend. 

Mrs. S. Of course he is; and must naturally feel an 
affectionate interest for his most intimate friend's wife. 
Here he comes. Let us retire and prepare for conquest ! 
Won't it be fun ? Exeunt, l. 2 E. 

Enter Doctor Savage, c. 

Dr. S. Good morning — hem — not here ! Well, so 
much the better. I'm not sorry; give me time for 
reflection. A pretty business I'm upon — truly, a very 
nice employment for a middle-aged married medical 
practitioner, commissioned to do the fascinating, with 
malice prepense, to serve a friend ; I — who never could 
muster up many sweet sentences on my own account. 
Hang me if I know how to begin! — phew! I wish 
I hadn't undertaken it. I didn't arrive at the absolute 
extent of my impertinence until I came to put it in 
practice ; it's not an easy thing to do when a man's heart, 
if he be possessed of that anatomical superfluity, is 
interested; but to administer a dose of admiration with 
professional sangfroid is something unparelled in practice. 
I'd better go back to Herbert — confess my cowardice, 
and — yet, no, I'll do a deed of heroism worthy of the 
classic age ; I'll devote myself to ensure the happiness of 
my friend, by arousing her indignation I shall give her 
heart vitality. 

Enter Mrs. Herbert Waverly behind him — crosses to R. 

She'll denounce my villainy of course ; and shelter 
herself behind the affection of her husband ; all will be 
explained by-and-bye, and 

Mrs. H. Good evening, Doctor. 

Dr. S. Now, isn't that provoking? Just as I had 
made up my mind, in she comes like a beautiful phantom, 
and frightens all my ideas out of my head. 

Mrs. S. (at l. door, aside) Don't be alarmed : I'll be 
near you. 



Act 3.] playing with fire. 27 

Mrs. H. How remarkably well you are looking, 
Doctor ! 

Dr. S. Yes, I thank you — 1 mean, do you think so ? 
Yes, in pretty good health and spirits. Hem ! now for 
my nefarious purpose : how the deuce shall I begin ? Ah ! 
Mrs. Waverly. 

Mrs. H. What a sweet expression you have in your 
eyes this evening, Doctor, [looking towards Mrs. Savage) 

Mrs. S. [aside) Good ; that style will do to begin with. 
Look at him blushing. 

Dr. S. I don't think I exactly caught your words. 

Mrs. H. I was admiring the sweet expression of your 
eyes. 

Dr. S. Were you? Yes, you're very good, [aside) 
What does the woman mean? 

Mrs. H. They're blue, are they not ? I do so love blue 
eyes ! 

Dr. S. They're not blue, ma'am; they're gray — cat- 
gray. 

Mrs. H. Yes, blue gray: softness and brilliancy combined. 

Dr. S. Hem ! you're pleased to be complimentary, 
madam — slightly at the expense of veracity, to be sure ; 
but, never mind that — how does my nose strike you ? 

Mrs. H. It's a heroic nose ! 

Dr. S. Thank you. I see you're inclined to amuse 
yourself at my cost. This strange turn of conversation 
has so confused me that J scarcely know where I am, or 
what I'm about. 

Mrs. H. [suddenly) Doctor? 

Dr. S. Madam. 

Mrs. H. Will you do me the favour to be seated ? 

Dr. S. Certainly, my dear madam, [aside) What is 
she going to do now ? [as he goes to chair) 

Mrs. H. [to Mrs. Savage) Is that right? 

Mrs. S. Nothing can be better ; don't spare him. 

Mrs. H. [they sit) Ah ! my dear doctor, I ask you to 
call up all your pity, all your charity, invoke all the 
generous sensibilities which should interpose between 
man's strength and woman's weakness. 

Dr. S. With pleasure, madam. What on earth is she 
driving at ? 



28 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 3. 

Mrs. H. [sighing deeply) Will you be kind enough to 
close the door ? 

Dr. S. Yes, ma'am, [aside) There's a vague fear 
creeping over me of I don't know what, [goes) 

Mrs. H. Doctor, can you keep a secret ? 

Dr. S. Why yes, madam, I think I can. 

Mrs. H. Ah ! but you know not the humiliating 
avowal I have to make ? 

Dr. S. No, madam, not yet, but I shall know it, I 
presume — some wondrously important trine, I've no 
doubt ; you women have an unhappy facility for inflating 
small troubles, especially if you don't happen to be afflicted 
with great ones. 

Mrs. H. [rises) And you men, doctor, have a much 
more unhappy facility for misconstruing anxieties you 
have neither the sense to understand nor the sensibility 
to appreciate. (Mrs. Savage signals to he careful) 

Dr. S. Extremely obliged to you, madam, for the 
insinuation. 

Mrs. H. Why should women be judged by the same 
standard as yourselves ; the active work of life which 
would bring with it equal health of mind, you deny them 
participation in, be they capable or not, and when thought 
wearied for want of occupation, or filled with fears which 
are perhaps too flattering, their very apprehension is 
made the subject of a jest, treated as ill humour, or passed 
over with mortifying indifference, [going round) 

Dr. S. [aside) Hush ! my dear friend — good gracious, 
that will never do. 

Mrs. H. [aside) I declare I quite forgot. 

Dr. S. A nice little storm I've raised here — she's in a 
delicious mood for my nefarious purpose. I think I'll 
postpone the villainous design until a more favourable 
opportunity. Good day, Mrs. Waverly ! [going) 

Mrs. H. Doctor ! pray sit down again ! 

Dr. S. Certainly, madam — rather an intermittent kind 
of person. 

Mrs. H. Pardon my extravagance — I'm quite sure that 
the parrot cry indulged in against women by the thought- 
less or the unworthy, finds no response within your noble 
heart. 



Act 3.] playing with fire. 29 

Dr. S. My noble heart, ma'am, as you're pleased to 
call it, hasn't bad time to give so important a matter due 
consideration ; all I have to say upon the subject at present 
is, that the lines of duty and usefulness appear to be 
sufficiently defined in both sexes, and I most energetically 
object to the individual of either, who departs in the 
remotest degree from the naturally prescribed boundary. 

Mrs. S. Truth, wisdom and philosophy combined, who 
could fail to be convinced while listening to those silvery 
accents ? 

Dr. S. (aside) Silvery humbug ! This woman is either 
laughing at me or fast verging towards lunacy. 

Mrs. H. Ah ! Doctor ! 

Dr. S. What's the matter now, ma'am ? 

Mrs. H. (romantically) There's a shadow — a cold, dark, 
desolating shadow on the sunlight of my life. 

Dr. S. Then I'd advise you not to walk on the shady 
side. 

Mrs. H. But how am I to avoid my fate ? 

Dr. S. Cross over to the other. 

Mrs. H. Alas I cannot ! A dangerous but irresistible 
influence compels me to linger in the gloom. 

Dr. S. Shake it off, ma'am — you can if you like. 

Mrs. H. It is impossible ! as well might you tell your 
fever- stricken patients to cast away the sickness that 
subdues them. Doctor, I just now asked you to call up 
all your pity and your sympathy, let me implore you to do 
so now ; I am about to put your friendship — your 
generosity to the severest test — listen to me mercifully, 
but don't look at me while I speak, (puts her hand to his 
cheek) 

Dr. S. Yes, ma'am, (aside) What's coming now I 
wonder. 

Mrs. H. I know as well as you do, Doctor, the duties 
and proprieties which should distinguish either sex — that 
to men is given the power of revealing the dearest 
tenderest thoughts without reproach, which women 
should preserve unspoken — think then of my agony of 
soul — imagine the intensity of a reckless passion which 
enforces me to quench all thought — defy all consequences 
while I avow that — =— 



30 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 3. 

Dr. S. You've said enough, madam, I understand you 
but too well, and would spare you further confession. 
(aside) Phew ! what a thunderbolt ! 

Mrs. H. No, no ; I must disburthen my over -loaded 
heart entirely. 

Dr. S. I'd rather you wouldn't, (aside) Oh, my poor 
friend ! 

Mrs. H. But I insist — it will relieve me. 

Dr. S. (seating himself) Well, if it will relieve you, 
go on, madam. 

Mrs. H. Shall I — must I tell you to whom my heart 
has fallen a willing victim ? 

Dr. S. I don't want to know who the scoundrel is. 

Mrs. H. Ah, it's no fault of his — he's ignorant of the 
matter altogether. 

Dr. S. Indeed, then there may be time to avert a 
terrible calamity. Who is the villain — I mean the person 
—the 

Mrs. H. Can't you guess — ah, Doctor, (tenderly — -falling 
in his arms — he throws her off — starting up) 

Dr. S. Good heavens, madam, you don't — you can't 
mean me ? (Mrs. Herbert weeps — Doctor Savage rises 
suddenly) 

Mrs. S. (aside) Beautiful, my dear ; couldn't be nicer — 
oh, what fun. (at door, l. 2 e.) 

Dr. S. You'll excuse me, madam — I'm not of the most 
diffident disposition in the world ; but, really, the sudden- 
ness of this announcement has plunged me into a state 
of feverish embarassment. I didn't imagine — I wasn't 
aware — I hadn't the remotest idea that I possessed a 
single element of attraction — it's a — in fact — an emer- 
gency I never thought of providing against. Who could 
have dreamt of such a state of affairs, (aside) Stay — isn't 
it better to — the remedy is in my own hands. For my 
friend's sake, I must suppress the horror that her perfidy 
inspires me with, and, by continuing my original intention, 
see how far she could be culpable. It's a traitorous, 
treacherous proceeding ; but, for Herbert's sake, I must 
go through with it. 

Mrs. H. (rising) Well, Doctor, you despise me, of course 
— then, tell me so at once, and leave me to my despair. 



Act 3.] playing with fire. 31 

Dr. S. Oh ! Mrs. Waverley, you may have some rea- 
sonable show of vindication, in your sex's proverbial 
weakness ; but, how can I defend myself from reproach, 
when I confess that, overpowered by a similar infatuation, 
your words have found but too ready an echo within my 
disloyal heart ? (aside) That's not so bad to begin with. 

Mrs. H. Doctor! 

Mrs. S. What's that ? Oh ! the false villain ; let him 
proceed, and let's see how far he'll go. 

Dr. S. (aside) I don't know whether that's the right sort 
of thing or not ; but it's as near as I can get to it. (aloud) 
Yes, yes, dear madam, emboldened by your sorrowfully 
sweet confession, I now declare that your sentiments are 
reciprocated ardently, devotedly, desperately, (aside) 
There's nothing like going it strong while you're about it. 

Mrs. H. (starting up) Oh, this is infamous — see what 
you have exposed me to. (aside to Mrs. Savage) 

Mrs. S. But, think of me — patience, for my sake. Oh ! 
the hypocritical profligate. 

Dr. S. And therefore if your love be as strong as mine, 
and you would fain break the bonds that keep us from each 
other, let us fly at once. 

Mrs. H. Fly, sir ; where ? 

Dr. S. Anywhere— everywhere — the farther off the 
better. 

Mrs. H. But your wife, sir ; — she who is so entirely 
devoted to you ! 

Dr. S. Oh ! ah ! yes ; I didn't think of her ; but never 
mind, she'll be glad enough to get rid of me. 

Mrs. H. Perhaps she may. How soon would you be 
prepared to go ? 

Dr. S. Well, that's matter-of-fact enough — I wonder 
if she really would fly! I'll see — suppose we say to-morrow. 

Mrs. H. Very well, sir, I shall meet you here. 

Exit, l. 2 e. 

Dr. S. She will fly — good gracious ! oh ! I must put a 
sudden stop to this disgraceful affair. Madam, allow me 
to decline — (turns) oh ! she's gone. Oh ! my poor deeply 
injured friend, what a task have I to perform — but it must 
be done at once, whatever the result. Why did I under- 
take it, and what on earth am I to say to Herbert ? that 



32 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 3. 

Iris wife has an insane passion for another, and that other — ■ 
but I'd better keep that to myself, why should I tell him 
anything at all about it ? I must — I must — honor — friend- 
ship — propriety demand it. Oh ! woman — woman — what 
an inscrutable riddle thou art ! Exit, c. 

Enter Mrs. Herbert and Mrs. Savage, l. door. 

Mrs. H. My poor dear Fanny. 

Mrs. S. Oh ! don't come near me — I hate you. (crosses 
io l.) Oh ! my darling dear good soul, isn't this shocking. 
Oh ! if I only had a brother, or even a cousin — but I'll 
never see him again! — never, never! 

Mrs. H. I confess, dear, I am both pained and sur- 
prised. You must be satisfied that by no look or word of 
mine have I given him the slightest encouragement. 

Mrs. S. But he might have kept his guilty passion 
buried in his own false heart if you hadn't been so un- 
necessarily affectionate. 

Mrs. H. Was it not at your own desire ? 

Mrs. S. Yes, yes, I was to blame, and now I'm miser- 
able, for, in spite of what I said to you, I do love him. 
Oh ! I was most ungrateful. I didn't know the extent of 
my happiness until I find it stripped from me so suddenly, 
but won't I punish him for it. 

Herb, (without) Just gone, you say? 

Mrs. S. Ah, here's your husband, I'll let him know 
what a traitor he has nursed in his bosom. 

Mrs. H. Be careful, Fanny, remember what conse- 
quences may ensue. 

Mrs. S. I don't care for consequences now. 

Exit Mrs. Herbert, r. 2. e. 

Enter Herbert, c. 

Mrs. S. (r.) Oh, Mr. Waverly, I have something 
dreadful to tell you. 

Herb. My wife ? 

Mrs. S. No, no ! I'm in such a temper ! Promise me 
that you'll be cool, and above all things, that you won't 
take any desperate step, no matter what I have to 
communicate ? 

Herb. I promise. 

Mrs. S. Oh, sir, I have made such a heartrending 



*m 



Act 3.] playing with fire. 33 

discovery ; prepare yourself to receive tidings of horror — 
nerve yourself to listen to a tale of deceit and treachery — 
your friend, my husband, is a traitor, false both to you 
and me. 

Herb. Indeed, how so pray ? 

Mrs. S. In one frightful sentence, he loves your wife ! 

Herb, (aside) Ah ! I understand, (aloud) Is it possible, 
why you really do surprise me. 

Mrs. S. It doesn't appear as though I did, sir — do you 
understand what I say ? 

Herb. Perfectly ; you say that your husband is in love 
with my wife. What led you to imagine so ? 

Mrs. S. The evidence of my own senses — I heard him 
avow it here, on this spot, a few minutes ago. 

Herb. How very wrong of him. 

Mrs. S. Oh, you think it's wrong of him, do you. 

Herb. Very, not to have made himself certain that 
there were no inconvenient listeners to his declaration. 
However I am extremely obliged to you, for having 
given me the interesting information, and rest assured I 
shall take the earliest opportunity of letting him know 
my appreciation of his conduct. 

Mrs. S. Mr. Waverly, this show of indifference can- 1 
not be real, it is put on to deceive me, you must have a 
more serious purpose at heart. The fierceness of my 
passion is now subdued by a dread of something to come, 
I have your promise — can I depend upon it, you will not 
suffer your vengeance to fall on him. 

Herb. Have no fear, my dear madam, whatever be the 
result, he will be safe. 

Mrs. S. Oh, I thank you a thousand times, for though 
I shall never see him again, I could not endure the thought 
that my rash words had wrought him mischief. 

Dr. S. (without) I must see him, only for a moment. 

Mrs. S. Oh, the false reprobate ! Mushes out, R. 2 e. 

Enter Doctor Savage, c. 

Dr. S. (r.) Hollo! wasn't that Fanny ? 
Herb. Yes — by some unlucky chance she overheard 
your interview with my wife. 
Dr. S. All of it? 



34 PLATING WITH FIRE. [ACT 3. 

Herb. That I don't know. 

Dr. S. Oh, then I see she didn't. 

Herb, {laughing) I'm afraid, William, I have got you 
into something of a scrape. 

Dr. S. He calls it a scrape — don't laugh, my dear 
Herbert, (aside) How can I break it to him? (aloud) Don't 
laugh, Herbert, you have my sincere pity; bear it like a man. 

Herb. What do you mean ? 

Dr. S. You know I told you I'd try and find out the 
cause of your wife's disquiet. 

Herb. Yes — yes — go on. 

Dr. S. Don't be impetuous — call up all your philosophy. 

Herb. Don't keep me on the rack ! 

Dr. S. Imagine the worst, my poor dear friend ; and 
the reality far exceeds it. It was a painful duty, Herbert ; 
but it is done. 

Herb. She has then an affection for another ? miserable 
wretch that I am. (going to L.J 

Dr. S. Yes, and miserable wretch that I am. (going to R.^ 

Herb. Who is the scoundrel? 

Dr. S. There's no scoundrel, Herbert, he doesn't — I 
mean he didn't know anything about it ; it's a disease, an 
insanity ; there's no necessity for you to know who the 
fellow is ; it wouldn't do you any good, or me either. 

Herb. But I must, I insist 

Dr. S. I won't tell you. 

Enter Mrs. Savage, and Mrs. Herbert, r. 2 E. 

Mrs. S. I will — I have told him — oh, double traitor, 
as Julia herself can bear me witness. 
Dr. S. No, no — don't be so mad ! 
Mrs. H. Since I am called upon, I must confess it was — 
Dr. S. Foolish woman, silence ! 
Herb. William, explain this. 
Dr. S. I can't — I won't. 
Herb. Have you deceived me ? 
Dr. S. No, no — it's all a mistake. 
Mrs. S. and Mrs. H. Yes, yes. 

Dr. S. Serves me right — confound it, you're all mad. 
(as they go up, the Drop descends, and 

END OF THE THIRD ACT. 



Act 4.] playing with fire. 35 



ACT IY. 

Scene. — Dr. Savage's, as before. 

Enter Pinchbeck, l. c. 

Pinch. All right, he's off for a couple of hours, and so 
I shall take the liberty of borrowing his coat and his 
character for a short time (puts on morning gown) Egad 
it's lucky that my elderly pigeon is a little tardy in her 
flight. Ah ! there's no profession without its anxieties. 
Our doctor's looking somewhat gloomy this morning; 
domestic sun under a cloud, evidently. My expected 
visitor appears to be an eligible party. I must investi- 
gate the pecuniary. If that should stand the test favour- 
ably, I couldn't do better than sacrifice myself — if not, 
why she'll do for my rustic Komeo. {bell rings) Ah ! 
there she is. I must receive her in an imposing attitude. 

Enter Perkins, l. c. 

Pinch. Oh ! it's you is it. 

Peek. Yes, it's me. I've just run over to see how we 
are getting on. 

Pinch. Gloriously. I have a magnificent nibble for you. 

Perk. You don't say so. Young and rich ? 

Pinch. Both, I believe, but you shall see him bye-and- 
bye. Is the wardrobe comatable to-day. 

Perk, (l.) We couldn't have a better chance. Missus 
keeps to her own room ; master's gone out in the blues, 
and the whole house is blind and deaf. 

Pinch, (r.) All the better for us; so you just borrow 
one of the handsomest dresses you can find, and then come 
over here. I'll manage to pave the way for you, so that 
you'll have nothing to do but listen to the voice of love. 
(bell) Ah! that's one of my visitors; don't be alarmed, 
it's a lady pigeon this time. 

Enter Widow Crabsticke, l. c. 

Pinch. You can go, Mary, and don't let me be disturbed 
upon any account. 



36 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 4. 

Perk. No, sir. Exit, c. 

Pinch, (r.) Take a seat, madam — you'll excuse me while 
I write a prescription, (writes) 

Mrs. C. (l., sits down on a sofa) Oh ! certainly, sir. 
Pray proceed in your estimable vocation ; from the ap- 
pearance of things it seems to be more profitable than 
praiseworthy. 

Pinch, (l. q/"R., table) I must confess, madam, that it 
is profitable, painfully profitable to a naturally well- 
balanced mind; but, my dear lady, you mustn't be too 
hard upon those who are driven into such crooked ways 
by the sharp punctures of necessity ; added to which, you 
should recollect that if there were no market for contraband 
articles the smuggling fraternity would be crushed out. 

Mrs. C. Yes, that's very true, and while there are 
perverse minds to hunger after forbidden fruit, serpents 
will never be wanted to shew where it can be found. 

Pinch. Precisely, madam ; the comparison is not 
flattering, but the metaphor is undeniable. 

Mrs. C. I'm glad, sir, you have decency enough to 
acknowledge it. 

Pinch. Oh ! I'm a man of the world, madam, and know 
exactly the value of its opinion. 

Mrs. C. Well, sir, I have not come here for argument, 
but business. 

Pinch. Quite aware of that fact, madam, and admire 
equally your frankness and freedom of speech, so to 
business. (Mrs. C. rises and goes to chair l. of r. table. 
Pinchbeck gets round to chair r. o/r. table) Let us go at 
once. How shall I designate you on my books ? 

Mrs. C. What do you mean, sir? 

Pinch. What name do you choose to be known by ? 

Mrs. C. Why my own, sir, of course ; but I don't see 
the necessity for parading it. 

Pinch. Certainly not, madam, it wouldn't be advisable ; 
suppose we say Juliet. 

Mrs. C. Juliet. Why Juliet ? I don't exactly under- 
stand. 

Pinch. Matter of delicacy, that is all. (aside) Now 
for the needful — hem ! Name Juliet, (writing) Appearance 
elegant. Property? Sad, but certain that folks will 



3T-^ 



Act 4.1 playing with fire. 37 

make so small a matter — point of particular inquiry. 
Mingles as naturally with the affections as green leaves 
among the orange blossoms. May I venture to ask how 
we are situated with regard to the despicable dross. 

Mrs. C. (aside) The fellow's afraid of his fee. (aloud) 
Don't be under any apprehension, sir; only bring this 
affair to a termination quickly, and demand what you 
please. 

Pinch, (aside) Rich, I think; but, I mustn't be in a 
hurry, (aloud) And now, madam, for the most important 
consideration of all, as far as you are personally concerned. 

Mrs. C. What may that be, sir? 

Pinch. Have you any particular predilection with re- 
gard to age, profession, country, or characteristics ? 

Mrs. C. Why should I ? 

Pinch. No reason in the world, madam — leaves me free 
to do the best I can for you. 

Mrs. C. I'm delighted to hear it. Use your own dis- 
cretion, and, for gracious sake, let there be no delay. 

Pinch. The Fates are propitious — I have a certain 
Romeo on my books, (both rise) 

Mrs. C. That's the very man I want. 

Pinch. Indeed, madam — pleasing coincidence — I ex- 
pect him every moment. If he should consent, as of 
course he will, the whole affair can be settled at once. 

Mrs. C. (l.) It shall be settled, sir, whether he con- 
sent or not ; he shan't escape me. No, no, I'll take him 
back with me, if I have to be bound to him hand and foot. 

Pinch, (aside) I've heard of hands and hearts being 
bound together, but I don't know what the feet have to 
do with it — very determined old lady this, (bell rings) 
Ah, that must be our man. Hadn't I better prepare him 
for the tender meeting? 

Mrs. C. I don't care, sir; just as you please, so that 
secure him for me before I leave the house. 

Pinch. I'll do my best. Will you please to step into 
this room, and at the proper moment I shall have the 
extreme felicity of bringing you together, 

Mrs. C. Never, I trust, to be separated. Exit, r. 2 e. 

Pinch. Fallacious hope ! but that's no affair of mine ; 
this Romeo must be a bird worth the catching; some 

D 



38 PLATING WITH FIEE. [ACT 4. 

young fledgling, I suppose, she has set her antediluvian 
heart upon, {goes and sits in arm chair, l. of*, table) 

Enter Uncle Timothy, c. 

Pinch. Hollo ! who's this ? 

Uncle T. Hush. Are you Doctor Savage ? 

Pinch. At your service, sir. 

Uncle T. All right — how-d'ye-do ? — I'm Romeo. . 

Pinch. Oh ! you are, are you ? (aside) My precon- 
ceived notions slightly exaggerated. 

Uncle T. Yes, I'm Romeo — you saw the item in the 
paper. Bless me, I'm as nervous as a school-boy — you're 
sure we're quite safe here, nobody to overhear us. 

Pinch. Quite, sir. Everything conducted in this office 
with the most honourable secrecy. 

Uncle T. This seems to be a strange way to procure a 
wife, sir ; but the fact is, I really never could muster up 
courage enough to make any advances myself. 

Pinch. Don't be in the remotest degree embarrassed, 
my dear sir ; it's my pleasant duty to interpose a brazen 
shield before the most diffident. 

Uncle T. Exactly — so I thought. You got my last 
letter? 

Pinch. With a satisfactory enclosure, in due course. 

Uncle T. Well, and have you seen anything suitable ? 
I don't care much about money, but youth and beauty are 
indispensable ? 

Pinch. Of course, (aside) I'm afraid my elderly Juliet 
is out of the question ; I'll try him with Perkins. 

Uncle T. You have seen somebody then? 

Pinch. The very individual you desire. 

Uncle T. Describe her. 

Pinch. Eighteen years old, plump as a spring chicken, 
sweet-tempered as a summer zephyr, graceful as a young 
gazelle, and accomplished as a college professor. 

Uncle T. That will do — my style exactly — phew ! I 
feel a glow of happiness in advance, as new as it's deli- 
cious. But do you think she'll like me enough to share 
my fortune? 

Pinch. I'll answer for that — with ray assistance. 

Uncle T. Enough — I'll never forget you. 



Act 4.] playing with fire. 39 

Pinch. I don't think you will. 

Uncle T. But when can I see her ? 

Pinch. Before many minutes elapse I expect her here. 

Uncle T. You do — phew! There's a rush of something 
not quite so pleasurable ; I'm almost afraid that I've been 
too hasty, [bell rings) 

Pinch. That must be she ! Now, sir, prepare for beauty 
irresistible! 

Uncle T. I will. 

Dr. S. [without) Put the horse up, I shan't go out 
again just at present. 

Pinch. It's the Doctor, as I'm an undone negotiator. 
My dear sir, it's one of my very particular patients come 
at rather an unreasonable hour. I presume you wouldn't 
like to be seen here by any one ? 

Uncle T. No, no, not for the world — put me somewhere 
until he is gone. 

Pinch. Just step in here, (crossing, l.) As soon as I 
can I shall get rid of him. 

Uncle Timothy goes into room, l. 1 e. 

Pinch, {takes of gown and cap) Was ever anything so 
malapropos f Confound it, what brought him back so soon? 

Enter Dr. Savage, c, takes off coat, flings it to Pinchbeck, 
then puts on dressing govm and cap. 

Dr. S. This coat's warm, has anybody been wearing it ? 

Pinch. No, it felt damp, and I put it before the fire. 

Dr. S. A decidedly pleasant hornet's nest I have thrust 
my head into, upon my soul ! Fanny developes a beautiful 
new phase in her character which I have hitherto been 
unaware of, and exhibits a supernatural jealousy. I 
hadn't the remotest idea I was so inconveniently fasci- 
nating. As for Mrs. Waverly, her anger was, of course, 
assumed, to blind poor Herbert; and even he appeared 
half inclined to reproach me for having for friendship's 
sake made the unfortunate discovery which has brought 
confusion and unhappiness to us all. 

Pinch, (aside) Something wrong somewhere. How 
the deuce shall I get my pigeon away ? 

Dr. S. Oh ! by-the-bye, Pinchbeck, I had almost for- 



40 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 4. 

gotten — be so good as to take this prescription, and have 
it made up. 

Pinch, (aside) Phew! — here's a precious mess, (aloud) 
Yes, sir. (aside) It's not far ; I must trust to luck, and 
hurry back. Oh ! what's to become of my pigeon? Exit, c. 

Dr. S. This comes of endeavouring to serve a friend. 
I wish the meddling demon that suggested it to me had 
stayed at home. 

Enter Herbert, c. 

Dr. S. Ah ! Herbert, is that you ? (offers his hand!) 

Herb, (refusing) Excuse me, one moment, if you please. 
You must be aware that I am entitled to an explanation ? 

Dr. S. Confound it, haven't I explained enough for a 
man of a retiring temperament? what would you have more? 

Herb. The truth, the definite and entire truth. Both 
your wife and mine intimated blame on your part, although 
without exactly mentioning particulars. 

Dr. S. My wife is a jealous little fool, and yours 

Herb. Well, and mine 

Dr. S. Is a greater fool of another sort. 

Herb. This is too vague and unsatisfactory ; if I cannot 
induce you as a friend to disclose all you know, I have 
at least the right to demand it from you as a man. 

Dr. S. Good gracious, how obtuse you are ! Can't you 
estimate the delicacy which prevents me from entering 
into further details about this unfortunate affair? Didn't I 
tell you 

Herb. That she had a secret affection for another. 

Dr. S. Precisely. 

Herb. But for whom ? 

Dr. S. Why, for me — for me ; there now, I hope you're 
satisfied that you have no cause for fear. 

Herb. And do you dare tell me that such a feeling 
could be nurtured and perpetuated without some advances 
upon your part ? 

Dr. S. Herbert! 

Herb. Oh, don't look absurdly indignant at me ! it's 
the usual part played by the wily profligate — the hectoring 
bluster, which is the only resource left to the discovered 
traitor. 



Act 4.] plating with fire. 41 

Dr. S. Now I'm a wily profligate and a discovered 
traitor, Herbert ; if I thought it were you, and not your 
unreflecting anger that spoke, I would be more inclined 
to resent the calumny ; but as it is, I shall leave you to 
get cool again, (going) 

Herb. Stay; do you assure me solemnly that you 
never gave her encouragement. 

Dr. S. The thought is offensive, but in pity to your 
distress of mind) I answer no — unequivocally no ! 

Herb. She has not visited you then? 

Dr. S. This is irritating and most unjustifiable. Your 
wife has never been here without you. 

Herb. William, I must believe you; but think, oh, 
think of the fiery shame that so consumes me, that madness 
would be merciful ! I'll see you soon again, when I shall 
be better able to consult with you what step I had better 
take. Exit, c. 

Dr. S. Now, the deuce take the woman and her pre- 
posterous passion ; she's likely to give me trouble enough. 

Enter Uncle Timothy from chamber, l. 

Uncle T. I say, friend, isn't she a long time coming ? 

Dr. S. [aside) Who, on earth, is this ? Why, as I live, 
it's her uncle — what does he want? — he doesn't know me. 
(aloud) Of whom do you speak, sir ? 

Uncle T. Hush ! the lady you expect. 

Dr. S. It can't be possible Mrs. Waverly meditates 
such a fearful proceeding — is she coming here ? 

Uncle T. Of course — why you know she is — is he gone ? 

Dr. S. Yes, just gone. 

Uncle T. I'm glad of it, then we're alone, ain't we ? 

Dr. S. Quite alone. 

Uncle T. Well then, let us come to an understanding, 
you had better make some arrangement with her, yourself ; 
I don't think I could have courage to meet her just now. 
If she's what you say, and you know best about that 
— couldn't you manage to keep her here for a few days ? 

Dr. S. Keep her here? what are you talking about? 
No, sir, I must beg leave to decline that proposition, it's 
utterly impossible — egad, I've had trouble enough about 
her already. 



42 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 4. 

Uncle T. Well, sir, suppose you have, I'll indemnify 
you amply; but you must place her somewhere for the 
present, I don't want my nephew to know anything about 
it, until we are gone. 

Dr. S. Then permit me to say, you are too late, for he 
knows everything about it already. 

Uncle T. Indeed ! 

Dr. S. Yes, I told him all. 

Uncle T. I'm very much obliged to you, and how did 
he take it? 

Dr. S. Very indignantly ; he's in a terrible rage. 

Uncle T. Yes, of course, I thought he would ; but we 
can't help that now. 

Dr. S. Eh ! why isn't this — yes, by all that's reckless, 
she's here now, and closely veiled. I wash my hands of 
it, come to what conclusion you may, I'll have no more 
to do with the matter. 

Uncle T. My dear sir, you mustn't do that, after bring- 
ing us into this embarrassing position. 

Dr. S. I, bring you into it ? 

Uncle T. Yes, you — hang it, man, at least be honest 
to your villanies ; don't shrink from the consequences of 
your own disreputable act. 

Dr. S. Why, you don't believe 

Uncle T. Stuff! I know all about it — here she comes, 
I rely upon you to manage it all, if I can collect myself 
sufficiently, I shall come out of my hiding place, if not, all 
you have to do is to settle where we can meet. Exit, l. 1 e. 

Dr. S. Good heavens ! I'm in a maze of astonishment 
and apprehension ; can this imprudent woman, blinded by 
her mad love for me, have taken so desperate a step, and 
Fanny even now devoured by a false jealousy — what 
would she say if — oh, I can't ! I won't ! I must be firm ! 

Enter Perkins, c, in Mrs. Waverhjs dress. 

Perk, (down, r.) Well, is he come ? 

Dr. S. Madam, this can no longer be endured. Your 
partiality though flattering is confoundedly inconvenient, 
and — (sees her face) That face — it isn't she ; but I'll 
swear to her dress — who are you. (turns her round) 
Hollo ! are you not Mrs. Waverly's waiting woman ? 



Act 4.] playing with fire. 43 

Perk, [crying) Yes, sir ; I confess I am — forgive me, 
sir, and I'll tell you everything. 

Dr. S. You'll oblige me very materially if you do. 
Come, come, don't be alarmed — sit down, (aside) Perhaps 
I may hear something consolatory, (aloud) Well, go on. 

Perk, (crying) Oh, sir, I have acted so wickedly, 
I'm afraid you'll never forgive me. 

Dr. S. Well, don't cry— -hang it! a woman's tears are 
too much for my stoicism — there — there, I won't be angry, 
if you only speak the truth. 

Perk, (crying) I will, sir, as soon as I ca — can ; but 
I'm so overcome with your goodness. 

Dr. S. Confound it woman, stop whimpering, and tell 
me what you've done. 

Enter Pinchbeck, l. c. 

Pinch, (aside) I thought so — it's all up with us, what's 
to be done? By jingo! here comes Mrs. Savage, it's a 
dreadful chance, (aloud) Hem ! Doctor 1 

(Perkins faints in Doctor Savage's arms) 

Pinch. Take care, (makes signs of caution) I thought 
you wouldn't like anybody to discover. 

Enter Mrs. Savage, c. 

Dr. S. For gracious sake, don't make a scene. Lord — 
Lord — if Fanny were to see this. 

Enter Herbert, l. c. 

Mrs. S. (confronting them) She does see it, traitor ! 

Perkins screams, and runs off, L. c. 

Herb. Why, Julia ! isn't that my wife ? 

Pinch. I regret to be compelled to say, it is. 

Herb. Well, sir, how will you contrive to twist your- 
self out of this disgraceful predicament? 

Dr. S. Herbert, I — don't you know. 

Mrs. S. You don't expect I'm going to remain under 
your good-for-nothing roof ? 

Dr. S. What is the matter with you both ? 

Mrs. S. Oh, dear, Mr. Waverly, what is to become of 
me? (crosses to Herbert, l., and throws herself into his 
arms) 



44 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 4. 

Dr. S. That's pleasant ! 

Herb. My dear madam, I can but too truly sympathize 
with you. 

Dr. S. Fanny ! 

Mrs. S. Oh, don't speak to me. 

Herb. William, be assured, you shall atone dearly for 
your treacherous conduct. 

Dr. S. Well, this is refreshing, he hugs my wife up in his 
arms, and threatens me with his vengeance — this is too 
much for patient endurance, what perverse devil possesses 
you all ? 

Enter Uncle Timothy, l. 1 e. 

Uncle T. Well, friend, have you paved the way for 
me ? She has arrived, I see. 

Enter Widow Crabsticke, r. 2 e. 

Mrs. C. Yes, she has ! 

Uncle T. Oh, law ! it's you, is it ? 

Dr. S. Hollo! who's this? 

Mrs. C. Yes, it's me ; are you not ashamed to look me 
in the face ? 

Uncle T. {to Dr. Savage) Scoundrel ! have you be- 
trayed me? Didn't I bribe you enough to be honest? 

Mrs. C. No, you didn't, so prepare to come back with 
me into the country. 

Uncle T. I shall do .nothing of the kind. 

Mrs. 0. Oh; this is too much ! {throws herself on Dr. 
Savage) 

Dr. S. It is, ma'am, a deuced deal too much, {pushes 
her over to Uncle Timothy, who flings her into a chair) 

Mrs. S. Oh, you Giovanni! 

Herb. You unprincipled deceiver ! 

Uncle T. You treacherous impostor! (Pinchbeck ca- 
pers about at back — all denounce the Doctor, who sinks 
exhausted into a chair) 

END OF ACT THE FOURTH. 



Act 5.] playing with fire. 45 



ACT Y. 

Scene. — Apartment at Waverlys. Case of pistols on 
table. — Same as Act II. 

Herbert discovered sealing a letter. 

Herb. There, my last employment upon earth is done. 
She shall find, unworthy though she be, that I have not 
carried my revenge beyond the dark threshold that so soon 
may separate us. I have here written my forgiveness, 
though I cannot, will not, speak it. To see her again is 
now impossible ; she will read these lines only when the 
doom I seek has closed my lips for ever. And now to 
find some friend who will bear this message to him who, 
of all others, I believed the best entitled to be called by 
that delusive name — friend ! Pah ! there's no such thing. 
How little did I dream that I should ever raise my hand 
in enmity against that man, and for such a cause. Oh ! 
woman, woman ! [buries his face in his hands and leans 
on the table, so as to be contzaled from the c. door) 

Enter Perkins cautiously, c. 

Perk. It's all settled. I'm to be married at last ; 
Pinchbeck has managed it beautifully — but I must borrow 
a* little more finery for the occasion. 

Goes into side door, l. 2 e. 

Herb, [catching a view as she enters, starts up, looks 
after her) See where the detected traitress skulks away ; 
my indignation almost chokes me. 

Enter Mrs. Herbert, r. 2 e., and sits at the table which 
Herbert has just quitted. 

Herb. The baseness of her conduct utterly destroys the 
sole touch of weakness that lingered in my heart. Why 
should I leave a record that would stamp me fool as well 

as [turns suddenly, rushing towards table as if to 

destroy the lettei — sees Mrs. Herbert) Julia! who was 
it entered that room ? 

Mrs. H. I know not. Herbert, what is this? [points 
to pistol case) 



46 PLATING WITH FIRE. [ACT 5. 

Herb. Nothing, no matter. I'm so confused at seeing 
you when — was it my heated imagination, or does my 
brain give way indeed. 

Mrs. H. [firmly) Herbert, your pistols are here, per- 
haps I have no right to force an explanation, but, in pity, 
dear husband, banish the suspense in which I live ; I 
think now that I could bear the worst, even the avowal, 
but it must be from your own lips — that I have outlived 
your regard. I care not what becomes of me — cast me 
off, if you so will it — but, in mercy, break this cruel 
silence. 

Herb, (aside, walking away) Cast her off — she wishes 
it — I see she does — it's a subtle stratagem to fling the 
odium upon me. Well, be it so — yes, she shall have her 
way, and I alone be the sufferer. Julia, be it as you wish, 
the bonds which have become so irksome I release you 
from ; henceforward you are free. 

Mrs. H. (aside) Oh ! it is hard now to dissemble, but it 
is for his sake. Herbert! I submit to my fate. 

Herb. Submit! do you not desire it? 

Mrs. H. Yes ! yes ! dear husband, if you wish it I am 
ready to depart, (crosses, l.) 

Herb. And no regret — not one reluctant thought? 

Mrs. H. (aside) He can ask that question. Changed — 
changed indeed — may you be happy, Herbert. 

Herb. Cold, cruel, heartless woman, go. (she goes towards 
door, l. 2 e.) She will — she will ! Julia, have you no fear 
for the unhappy future ? not a sigh for the brief blissful 
past ? is it thus that we should part ? give me at least one 
moment to remember, without grief and indignation. 

Mrs. H. (falling into his arms) Oh ! Herbert, husband, 
save me from myself. 

Enter Uncle Timothy, c. 

Uncle T. Aha ! that's as it should be. Don't mind 
me, I'll soon have an equal privilege. It's all arranged, my 
boy — the Doctor managed it for me — gave old she-griffin 
the slip, and we've had a glorious lunch together — lots of 
champagne, old fellow — turtle soup and brandy punch ; — 
by Jove, I think the last spoonful was a little too rich. 
Congratulate me, I'm going to be married, you'll have a 



Act 5.] playing with fire. 47 

surprise sooner than you expect — it strengthens my reso- 
lution to see you so. (looks alternately at each other) Eh ! 
God bless me — I'm afraid. I say, Herbert, was it the 
effect of the soup, or didn't I see you in each other's 
arms? and now, you'll excuse the remark, but I never saw 
such a melancholy-looking couple of kill-joys. Julia, 
you've been crying, and hang me if I don't think there has 
been something moist on your eyes too. Dear me — dear 
me — I wish I had reflected a little longer. 

Herb. Uncle, it may as well be known at once, prepare 
yourself for the worst intelligence I have ever had to 
communicate; after so many years of happiness, we are 
about to separate. 

Uncle T. Good gracious, you're joking ! I won't 
believe it, I can't, it's ridiculous, Julia ! 

Mrs. H. It is but too true, dear uncle, I have not 
strength to bear up longer against this trial. Exit, l. 2 e. 

Uncle T. Oh, well, see here ! this is atrocious, unex- 
pected and horrible ; what a fortunate thing it is that I'm 
not married yet ! 

Herb. Into your hands, dear uncle, I confide this paper, 
it makes full provision for her future life. 

Uncle T. I won't take it, I decline the responsibility. 

Herb. Nay, I have a yet more friendly service, that 
you alone can perform. You cannot but perceive that a 
painful crisis has arisen, for which there is no alternative 
but that, (touching pistol case) 

Uncle T. And what may that be ? (opens case) Bless 
my soul, pistols! (falls into chair, r.) 

Herb. I have been dishonoured, uncle; tricked, gulled, 
my unsuspicious confidence abused, despoiled of that a 
thousand lives could not atone for. 

Uncle. You surprise and terrify me, my dear boy, you 
surely can't mean that Julia, your wife ? (he nods) My 
goodness, who could have dreamt of such a thing ! and 
I, blind, unthinking simpleton as I was — (crosses to l.) 
I mean, what must I do ? 

Herb. You must take this letter and deliver it in 
person, (gives letter) 

Uncle T. What is it ? 

Herb. A challenge. 



48 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 5. 

Uncle T. What, a duel? 

Herb. Yes, and you must act as my second. 

Uncle T. You're not serious, Herbert? Why, I never 
saw a pistol fired in my life. 

Herb. So much the better. 

Uncle T. But who is it ? {reads) Eh, what ? bless 
me ! Doctor Savage, is he the fellow ? 

Herb. Yes, do you know him ? 

Uncle T. Know him ? I should think so — for as mis- 
chievous and unprincipled a rascal as ever lived on lies. 

Herb. Can this be possible ? 

Uncle. T. Not only possible, but true, as I to my 
shame can testify. 

Herb. What do you mean, Uncle? 

Uncle. I mean that his office is a surreptitious mar- 
riage mart — a convenient rendezvous where shy Cupids 
may borrow confidence. I don't mind confessing to you 
it was this reprobate who smoothed my matrimonial 
pathway; but, thank my good fortune, the sacrifice is not 
completed, though I presume I'll have to risk a "breach 
of promise case." But, no matter ; better to pay in cash 
than comfort. 

Herb. Vile, treacherous hypocrite. Uncle, I am 
ashamed to ask you to carry my message to so despic- 
able a fellow ; but there's no alternative. 

Uncle. Herbert, I'll do it. 

Herb. Thanks, my good friend — and at once. 

Exit, r. 2 e. 

Uncle T. Hang me if I wouldn't like to have a pop 
at the scoundrel myself ! 

Enter Pinchbeck, c, he touches Timothy on the shoulder. 

Pinch. Well, old boy, I've been looking out for you ! 

Uncle T. Have you ? then you've saved me a good 
deal of trouble, for I was just going to look out for you. 

Pinch. How lucky it is we met — it's all right, I've 
found a friend to officiate. 

Uncle. T. I'm glad of it ; then you anticipate my 
business? 

Pinch. Certainly, we shall be ready in about half an 
hour. ' 



Act 5.] playing with fire. 49 

Uncle T. Well, the sooner the better, though I must 
say, you take it coolly; I wonder you have the daring 
impudence to shew yourself beneath this roof. 

Pinch. I wouldn't, but to tell you the truth, she's here. 

Uncle T. I know she is. 

Pinch. Have you seen her? 

Uncle T. I have, sir, and also the bitter consequence 
of your rascality in her misery and tears. 

Pinch, (aside) Tears — oh, the artful baggage, (aloud) 
All humbug, my dear sir — don't mind that — put on for 
effect — she'll be happy enough by-and-bye. 

Uncle T. How so ? 

Pinch. Why, didn't she tell you that we had made 
arrangements to leave the house together? 

Uncle T. Oh you have, have you ? 

Pinch. Yes; I expect the carriage at the end of the 
street shortly. She is quietly to steal out of the house, 
then off we are all together on the road to happiness. 

Uncle T. (aside) Well, of all the audacious rascals I 
ever heard of, this icy-hearted vagabond is the most un- 
compromising, (aloud) And, pray sir, where do you mean 
to take her? 

Pinch. That, of course, rests with yourself. 

Uncle. With me ? 

Pinch. Certainly. You'll take her with you into the 
country, I presume. What fitter place than your own 
house ? 

Uncle T. My house — why, man, you're crazy. 

Pinch. Well, perhaps it would be more judicious to 
remain somewhere quietly until the little irregularity 
blows over. 

Uncle T. (aside) Phew ! he calls his gigantic crime a 
little irregularity ; pah ! I can have no more words with 
such a cold-blooded ruffian. Sir, I don't know what 
indication of villany in my countenance prompted you to 
make me your confidant, but this I do know, that our 
family is under an amount of obligation to you which I 
sincerely trust this document will fully discharge, (gives 
letter) Exit, c. 

Pinch. Singular old fellow that; it isn't often that 
people abuse the means, however questionable, through 

E 



50 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 5. 

which they are assisted. What have we here, I wonder? 
A handsome remuneration for my invaluable services, no 
doubt I 

Enter Mrs. Crabsticke, c. 

Mrs. C. There he is! [down, r.) 

Pinch. It will be a fine stroke of matrimonial diplomacy. 
Mrs. C. {seizing the letter) You'll excuse me, sir, if I 
deem it necessary to put a stop to your disgraceful diplo- 
macy, at least, in the present instance. 

Pinch. But, my dear madam, thi3 does not appertain 
to your business at all, which, I am happy to say, is 
progressing most favourably. 

Mrs. C. Hold your tongue, [reads) What's here — a 
challenge ? did my brother give you this ? 

Pinch. Your brother, madam ? I have not the pleasure 
of his acquaintance. 

Mrs. C. I mean he who quitted the room just now. 
Pinch. Yes, ma'am, he did ; but I really wasn't aware — 
Mrs. C. Ah ! well, I don't want to interfere with any 
arrangement of this kind. 

Pinch. I'm glad to hear it, madam, and am quite 
certain it will be a great comfort to your brother, to know 
that you have no objection. 

Mrs. C. It's nothing to me, though how he came to be 
mixed up in such a matter, I can't imagine. 

Pinch. Without undue flattery, I think I may say, / 
brought it about rather cleverly, too, and I should be 
most happy to negotiate a similar affair for you. 

Mrs. C. Don't be impertinent, sir. (crosses to r. and sits) 

Pinch, (examining letter) What on earth is this ? 

" imfamous treachery ! — satisfaction ! — wrongs avenged 1" 

A deadly challenge — now whether this is for me, or my 

reputable double, I'll be hanged if I can tell. 

Dr. S. (without, c.) Come along, and don't bother. 1 
tell you, I shan't sleep without an explanation. 
Pinch. Hollo ! here he is ! 

Enter Dr. Savage and Mrs. Savage. 

Dr. S. Why, Pinchbeck, what are you doing here? 
Mrs. C. Pinchbeck! 



Act 5.] playing with fire. 51 

Pinch, [aside to Mrs. Crabsticke) Hush ! a nickname 
— tell you all bye -and- bye, if you'll only please to go now. 

Mrs. C. But I don't please to go now, sir, I please to 
stay and frustrate your nefarious intentions. 

Dr. S. What's all this? 

Pinch, [aside) I have it. [aloud) Madam, you are 
right, they must be frustrated, [to Dr. Savage) May I 
say a word to you alone, sir ? 

Dr. S. To be sure — Fanny, go and find Mrs. Waverly, 
and depend upon what I have promised. 

Mrs. S. I wish I could ; but you are such an adept at 
deception — I'm afraid to indulge the hope. Exit, l. 2 e. 

Dr. S. Now, sir, what have you to say to me ? 

Pinch. In a word, sir, have you cause to fear a hostile 
message from any party ? 

Dr. S. Hostile message ? No ! 

Pinch. Not from Mr. Waverly ? 

Dr. S. Has he proceeded to so ridiculous an extremity ? 

Pinch. He has, sir. 

Dr. S. Then he's madder than I thought he was. 

Pinch. I obtained knowledge of the faet, and in my 
anxiety for your safety took the liberty of intercepting 
the document — here it is. The bearer of this not knowing 
you, I, following an irresistible impulse, told him I was 
Dr. Savage, in the hope of averting" so great a calamity, 
if necessary, by the sacrifice of myself. 

Dr. S. You have been very considerate, I must say ; 
but, don't be alarmed, there will be no necessity for any 
such exhibition of disinterested bravery — all will be 
settled when I see Herbert. 

Pinch. I need not say how rejoieed I am at this infor- 
mation ; but, pray, sir, if any one should mention my 
assumption of your name, remember the motive and 
pardon the impertinence. 

Dr. S. To be sure, Pinehbeek ; but, run to the office, 
there's no one there. 

Pinch. At once, sir. (to Mrs. C.) If you would avert a 
great calamity, follow me. 

Mrs. C. You may depend upon it, sir, you don't quit 
my sight again I promise you. 

Exeunt Pinchbeck and Mrs. C, c. 



52 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 5. 

Dr. S. A most delicious entanglement I've managed 
to establish by consenting to that absurd proposition. 
Fanny is suffering under a savage attack of jealousy, and 
to appease her I must now inform this poor woman, who 
has, heaven knows how, conceived so violent a passion 
for me, that she must be content to pine in misery, as, of 
course, she will — ah, here they both come ; stern duty 
triumphs over delicacy — phyehologic surgery should be 
sharp and decided. 

Enter Mrs. Savage and Mrs. Herbert, r. c. 

Mrs. S. Now, sir, here is Julia; be good enough to 
commence your explanation. 

Dr. S. Hem ! believe me, my dear madam, I regret to 
witness your distress ; but domestic comfort is superior to 
small sacrifices, and the unworthy image which has ob- 
tained a place within your heart must be obliterated. It 
may cost you a pang — no doubt it will — but in the end 
we shall all be the happier for it. 

Mrs. H. You ask for an impossibility. Never, sir, can 
I banish that beloved image from my heart. 

Mrs. S. There, sir. 

Dr. S. What, madam, when I tell you emphatically 
that this ridiculous passion is not in the remotest degree 
reciprocated ? 

Mrs. H. It well becomes you, my husband's friend, to 
tell me that. 

Dr. S. Confound it, madam, it's because I am his friend 
I'm forced to be thus explicit. 

Mrs. H. I know it, sir, but have you never had one 
thought for me ? 

Dr. S. Never, madam, never! I do assure you, upon 
my honor, I regret to appear so cruel, but it's always best 
to have a definite understanding. 

Mrs. H. Enough, sir! If you are capable of making 
so cold-hearted an avowal at such a crisis, in simple duty 
to myself I must decline your further acquaintance. 

Dr. S. Madam, I can't say that I regret the decision 
you have come to. 

Mrs. H. Very well, sir, be it so— you shall find that I 
have sufficient pride to sustain me — even in this trial of 



\ 



Act 5.] playing with fire. 53 

my fortitude and temper — and however my husband's 
alienated love may fill my after life with sorrow, it cannot 
equal the contempt and scorn with which I shall remember 
one who, dead to every principle of honor or humanity, 
adds thus the crowning grief to my great misery, [goes 
up and sits, l.) 

Dr. S. Well, upon my life and soul, this is sufficiently 
refrigerating — you seem to forget, madam, that my wife 
is present 

Mrs. S. Pray don't mind me, 

Mrs. H. What (coming down, l.) has that to do with it ? 

Mrs. S. Certainly, what has that to do with it? I'm 
nobody, so don't take the trouble to dissemble any more, 
but tell the truth, although you shame each other. 

Dr. S. Truth ! what do you mean ? haven't I 

Mrs. S. It's no use trying to deceive me any longer, I 
know you have both been secretly attached. 

Mrs. H. Fanny ! 

Mrs. S. Oh ! nonsense ! didn't I overhear your affec- 
tionate conversation? 

Mrs. H. Which you advised. 

Dr. S. What's that? 

Mrs. S. Yes, but I didn't imagine I was using my 
breath to rekindle an old fire. 

Dr. S. Oh, it was you advised that interesting conver- 
sation, eh ? I do believe I begin to see a bit of blue sky ! 
You don't mean to say that your sudden penchant for me 
was a sham ? 

Mrs. H. I do indeed. 

Dr. S. And you don't nourish a fatal passion for the 
subscriber within your beautiful anatomy ? 

Mrs. H. Certainly not, sir. 

Dr. S. You still love Herbert? 

Mrs. H. Deeply, enduringly. 

Dr. S. Hurrah, it's all serene — the clouds are clearing 
away rapidly, I must insist upon embracing you both. 
Listen : in an unlucky moment, it was agreed between 
Herbert and me — agitated and distressed at a sorrow 
which, I must say, you very clumsily endeavoured to 
conceal, that I should try the self- same mode of treatment 
suggested by my little woman. I ought to have foreseen 



54 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 5* 

the inevitable result, for we always think alike, don't we, 
dear? 

Mrs. S. I think you've been a very great fool. 

Dr. S. So do I, darling — our agreement is as perfect' 
as ever. 

Mrs. H. And Herbert, my husband ? 

Dr. S. Has never wavered an instant in his truth and 
love, to that I'll pledge my life ! 

Mrs. H. Do you indeed assure me of this? Oh, my 
dear, good friend — I'm so ashamed of my violence. 

Mrs. S. And I of my suspicion, (they both embrace 
Dr. Savage) 

Enter Herbert, r. 2 e., he starts angrily. 

Herb. What do I behold? (down, r.) 

Dr. S. Sir, you behold the happiest medical practitioner 
within the bills of mortality, for I have the key to that 
comfort and domestic felicity which you wilfully locked 
against yourself. 

Herb. What do you mean ? 

Dr. S. I mean that you're cured — cured, both of you. 
You were suffering from a plethora of comfort, and the 
depletion has done you good; there, take your wife un- 
changed in anything except the anxiety that's gone for 
ever — but, for gracious sake, don't let us have any more 
imaginary maladies. 

Herb. Julia, can this good news be true ? 

Mrs. H. My loyal heart has never abandoned its 
allegiance, dear Herbert, even in the midst of traitorous 
suspicions. 

Herb. But tell me 

Dr, S. Not now — by-and-bye. Take your wife, and 
don't ask impertinent questions. 

Herb. My dear Julia. 

Mrs. H. Dear husband. 

Mrs. S; My dear Doctor, (they embrace) 

Enter Uncle Timothy, c. 

Uncle T. Well, Herbert, I delivered the message to 
that rascally friend of yours, Dr. Savage I 

Dr. S. I beg your pardon, sir ; allow me to say that 



Act 5.] pl'aying with fire. 55 

you seem to exhibit a very reckless disregard for historic 
accuracy. 

Uncle T. That, I suppose, is the elegant way of telling 
a man he lies. Who may you be, sir? 

Herb. Uncle, this is Doctor Savage. 

Uncle T. This Doctor Savage — I'll be hanged if it is. 

Dr. S. Will you? — then you'd better look after the 
rope, sir, for I certainly am Doctor Savage. 

Uncle T. (showing letter) You — is this your address ? 

Dr. S. It is. 

Uncle T. Physician ? 

Dr. S. Yes. 

Uncle T. And matrimonial agent ? 

Dr. S. No !- — stop ! Could that scamp Pinchbeck have 
assumed my name for other purposes than that he 
spoke of? 

Uncle T. You may soon have an opportunity of 
knowing, sir ; for the fellow, mistaking the purport of my 
interview with him, has promised to meet me here almost 
immediately. 

Herb. For what purpose, uncle ? 

Uncle T. By Jove, I'm ashamed to acknowledge it, 
but I may as well make a clean breast at once. I was to 
be married (all laugh) to a sweet young creature — quite 
a lady, I assure you ; and more than that, the fellow 
contrived to gain my sister's consent to be present at the 
interesting ceremony. 

Dr. S. This accounts for the matrimonial agency. Do 
me the favour to proceed as though such were your inten- 
tion ; meantime we can watch the result from some con- 
venient hiding place. 

Mrs. S. I wonder who the lady is. 

Herb. Here they both come, I declare. 

Dr. S. Then let us keep out of view for the present. 

Exeunt all into room, r., but Timothy. 

Enter Pinchbeck and Widow Crabsticke, c. 

• Pinch. Ah, sir ! arrived before me, I perceive. 

Uncle T. Yes, my dear doctor — naturally anxious to 
have this delicate affair settled. 



56 PLAYING WITH FIRE. [ACT 5. 

Mbs. C. I little thought I should ever find you engaged 
in such work. 

Uncle T. And I as little expected to find you seconding 
me in it. 

Mrs. C. I second you ? Don't be an idiot I what are 
you talking about ? 

Pinch. May I beg of you to be cautious, and speak low ? 

Mrs. C. Speak low ! why should I, sir ? 

Pinch. You must be aware, my dear madam, that we 
are engaged in a business which demands secrecy. 

Mrs. C. I am not, sir, whatever you may be. I only 
kept in your track to discover him, and now I've done 
with you, for out of this house he don't go without me — 
it's a mercy he has escaped so long. 

Uncle T. But suppose I tell you that I have made up 
my mind to carry out my intentions. 

Pinch. Certainly, exercise the prerogative of your sex, 
we can do without that old tabby ; so be firm, take the 
goods the gods provide you, Borneo, and be happy, {leading 
Perkins from room, r. 3 e.) 

Mrs. C. A woman ! {all advance from their concealment 
laughing) 

Dr. S. Bravo! well done, Dr. Savage. (Perkins en- 
deavours to get away — Dr. Savage detains her) One 
moment, madam, if you please ; we must find out who 
you are. {takes off veil) 

Mrs. H. Perkins, and in my dress ! 

Herb. Dear, dear Julia, what's the meaning of this ? 

Perk. Oh ! I don't know — it's all Mr. Pinchbeck's 
fault — he over-persuaded me — said he'd make my fortune 
by getting me a nice rich husband, if I could only borrow 
one of missus's dresses. 

Uncle T. Yes, my dear ; I was the fortunate individual 
selected to sustain that fortunate character. 

Perk. You, sir! {to Mrs. Herbert) Oh, madam, please 
forgive me, and I'll never think of such a terrible thing 
again. 

Mrs. H. Husband? 

Herb. Do as you please, darling. I have been been so 
culpable, but am now so happy, that I am inclined to deal 
leniently with the mistakes of others. 



Act 5.] playing with fire. 57 

Mrs. H. Forget the past then, Perkins, and be more 
prudent in the future. 

Perk. That I will, indeed, ma'am, and thank your 
most grateful — goodness, oh my ! what a narrow escape 
I've had. Exit c, pushing Pinchbeck. 

[all go up stage, except Mrs. Crabsticke and Uncle 
Timothy) 

Mrs. C. Well, brother, I hope you have had enough 
of wife-hunting to last you for the remainder of your life. 

Uncle T. By Jove, I have, though I were to outlive 
Old Parr, himself. For the future, I accept your sisterly 
rule— look upon me as the ghost of the departed Crab- 
sticke — henceforth, lecture as you may, I'll be as quiet 
and as uncomplaining. Goes, l. 

Dr. S. Well, Herbert, my prescription, though a little 
unpalatable, has turned out efficacious after all. 

Herb. Complete — our happiness is now assured. 

Dr. S. Then, you'll have no objection to my presenting 
my little bill, (gives challenge) 

Herb. My challenge — William, forgive me. 

Dr. S. {tears the paper) Herbert, it is forgotten for ever. 

Pinch. How delightful to the philanthropic mind it is 
to see the chords of human sympathy vibrate in harmonious 
unison : can I venture to hope that, however irregular 
some of my practices may have been, the share I have had 
in bringing about so desirable a result will not be over- 
looked. 

Dr. S. You, certainly, are entitled to our consideration. 
I am under especial obligations to you for the additional 
eclat with which you have surrounded my humble position, 
and when you have done as much honor to your own name, 
as you have brought discredit upon mine, we may hope to 
meet again. 

Pinch. Under those circumstances, my dear Doctor, I 
fear that I shall have to augment the distress of the present 
gloomy hour, by bidding you an everlasting farewell. 

Exit, r. 1 e. 

Dr. S. Now that all is settled comfortable and happily, 
let us go to dinner. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




58 PLAYING 

Herb. ~ jn o, not yet ; 

Our labour's done, 'tis true, but don't forget 
Ere we can dine, the moral we must shew. 

Dr. S. Moral ! they've seen that, bless you, long ago, 
Or else the Author's lost his time and pains, 
In any case one comfort still remains ; 
They cannot blame us if we but aspire 
To please our Patrons and to Play with Fire. 



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